


A Serpent's Song

by Rinienne



Series: Serpent's Song [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Lucifer (Supernatural), Canon-Typical Violence, Depowered Lucifer, Falling In Love, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Lucifer Possessing Sam Winchester, Lucifer Redemption, M/M, Romance, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinienne/pseuds/Rinienne
Summary: Lucifer escapes Asmodeus and attempts to summon Mary from the alternative universe to exchange her for his son. Things don't go as planned and, together with the mother Winchester, he brings Michael. Powerless and hurt, Lucifer asks Sam for help, but instead of saving the world, the two get stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a blizzard raging outside.Set after 13x7.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everything besides chapter one is betaed by [Monkeygirl77](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77)

The snow was falling from the sky in white, puffy flakes. The forest’s canopy was not thick enough to block it completely, but the trees were protecting from the wind. The ground was covered in a white blanket that crunched under feet with every step.

It was almost serene, magical in a sense, to experience a snowfall in the forest.

Well, as magical as it could be, with three tied creatures moaning through their gags, ruining the peaceful atmosphere of the night. But it was ok, because they were going to be the source of real magic very soon.

Lucifer was still strong enough to drag his catch with only one hand and still an angel enough to not be bothered by cold — cold was his domain after all. Yet, with so much of his grace gone, he was starting to experience a first ping of fatigue. It was a strange sensation, like a slow burn in the muscles of his human vessel that was increasing with each passing minute.

Lucifer didn’t like it very much.

He entered a small opening where the snowfall was a little stronger and moved to the very center of it. The border between universes was thin here, and the air felt strange, almost alien, as if the entire glade was not of this world. Stretching, he dropped a sack with ingredients and the end of the rope to the ground. All three of his catches grunted again, trying to scootch away from the archangel.

“You should be happy, you know,” Lucifer sighed with a shrug pulling the items from the sack and starting to neatly arrange them on the snow. “Your life — however short it’s going to be — have a purpose now, you’re going to get my boy back to me, my son.”

Apparently, it wasn’t the right thing to say, because all three started to trash around even harder, making Lucifer roll his eyes. He cast his fist spell, an easy one that even a human could accomplish given the right preparation. Several enochian words and the snowfall around them stopped, a weakest of shields appeared over their heads, turning the blanket of snow on the ground into a perfect drawing board.

Then the complicated part started.

Lucifer has watched the prophet carefully, every ingredient that he’d used, every hand gesture that he’d made. He modified the spell since then, added a few extra elements. Of course, he required an archangel’s grace to power up a rift between the worlds, but he wasn’t planning on opening any rifts. If everything he calculated was correct, he would be able to pull a single willing target from the bizarro universe and into this one.

He spent almost an hour drawing sigils and symbols on the snow, then glanced at his sacrifices, realizing he needed to speed up, as one of them was not doing all that great in low temperatures, starting to slowly drift into unconsciousness.

Finally finishing the preparations, he started to read the spell, grabbing the first body out of the pile. “A creature of the underworld,” he muttered slicing the demon’s throat, its red blood falling onto the snow, starting to float towards the sigils, painting the complex designs in red.

“Creature of the Earth,” he continued picking up a human. Its body was cold, and he could feel some of the appendages starting to harden into ice. It was barely breathing, but was still alive, and when Lucifer slit its throat there was just enough blood to paint another third of the sigils.

“This really hurts me more than it hurts you,” he sighed pulling an angel closer to himself. He didn’t recognize this one, meaning he was created already after Lucifer’s fall. But not knowing the name made it a little easier.

He cut a deep furrow on the angel’s throat, pulling the grace out and into a bowl with the rest of the ingredients. Afterwards, he bled him too and watched the final third of the drawings turning red.

The snow began glowing, and Lucifer stood up to finish reading the incantation, pulling the last ingredient, a lock of blonde hair, and throwing it into the bowl. For a moment nothing was happening and the archangel though his attempt was futile, but then something crackled in the middle of the circle, heavy energy settled around the dome he created over the glade. Sparks started to fly everywhere, an orange glow illuminating the area.

The air was starting to smell like electricity. Lucifer felt hair on his nape stand on end and grinned widely. The spell he modified worked, the passage between this world and the other one stated to open.

One final flash and everything went silent, the surrounding submerging into the dark of the night once again, and the snow began to fall as the protective dome shuttered with the release of energy from the spell. There was a person in the middle of the opening, standing and looking around, an air of fascination in her eyes.

“Mary,” Lucifer exhaled taking a step closer.

Immediately, her eyes snapped in his direction her expression changing to surprise, then to resentment both of which Lucifer could see clearly despite his eyesight diminishing with loss of powers. There was something really-really wrong here, and when he looked up, above her head and noticed a faint glow of a halo, he felt his blood freeze.

“No,” he shook his head feeling fear and despair enveloping him. “No, Mary, what have you done?”

“Lucifer,” Michael greeted him, “And here I thought you were becoming a nuisance.” His eyes narrowed then, sliding above he younger brother’s frame, looking at the slowly descending snow. “This is interesting,” he commented bringing his hand up, watching the snowflakes descend onto his palm. “Not what I envisioned, but interesting.”

“Yeah, well,” Lucifer muttered taking a step backwards. There was not a single chance he could fight the alternative universe Michael. He hadn’t been able to do it when his grace was intact, but now he was completely powerless in comparison. If he was lucky, he was going to get out of Michael’s sight and think what to do about the situation from a safer spot.

Another step backwards and Michael’s gaze was back on him. His fake brother was before him in the next blink of an eye, hand wrapping around Lucifer’s neck, squeezing so hard, the fallen archangel felt whatever was left of his grace starting to strain, horrible pain spreading over the body of his vessel.

In a futile attempt he tried to summon his sword, but as his wings, the sword refused to appear in his hand.

“You’re nothing to me,” Michael said slamming his head against the trunk of a tree, his vision beginning to immediately swim, a strange ringing noise filling Lucifer’s ears.

Then he was thrown almost to the other end of the forest’s opening. His back collided with another tree and echoed with pain, air leaving Lucifer’s lungs at the impact.

“You experience pain as a human would,” Michael noted.

Lucifer wanted to retort with something sarcastic as if his fake brother hadn’t discovered it by torturing him back in alternative reality, but only a broken groan escaped his lips.

“A human weapon can surely hurt you now,” Michael continued. There was almost no emotion in his voice, as if it was nothing but a curious experiment to him. It sounded more terrifying than when Michael sounded sadistic.

The fake Michael drew a gun then, aiming it at Lucifer. There was no hesitation in him, as he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Lucifer on the shoulder, and the pain of it was so strong he screamed from the intensity of it.

Lucifer could feel blood trickling down his side, his face. To the best of his abilities, he tried to heal the injuries, but what was left of his grace was not enough to be efficient.

As he started to feel his consciousness leaving him, he saw Michael lowering the weapon. “I wouldn't mind humiliating you like this again,” he smirked. “So do me a favor and don’t die.”

And then everything went black.

***

Lucifer wasn’t sure how long he was out, but when he opened his eyes it was still dark. Then again, several days could’ve passed while he laid there. Looking up, he could see the snow was still falling. It covered his body with a layer not too thick, which meant he was unconscious for no more than a few hours.

Cautiously, he moved one of his legs, groaning as he felt the nerves of the human body responding with a ping of pain. He reached for his shoulder next. His grace was able to cover the wound and stop the bleeding, yet he also could sense a foreign object. The bullet was still there and he wasn’t able to evaporate it the way he used to.

He needed to move, needed to seek help, yet the usual angel communication channels were closed to him

Phone. He needed to find a phone.

Reluctantly, he started to get up, wincing at every new tug of pain. He hated it, hated how small and miserable he felt, how _human_. Yet, he didn't want to give up, he refused to. If not for the revenge he wished to exert on the fake Michael, then because he truly feared what that impostor might do to Jack. Besides, he surely didn’t escape Asmodeus’ grip to end up dead in some forest.

Concentrating his thoughts on his son, Lucifer pushed himself upwards, leaned on the tree trunk to catch a breath that he apparently now needed to sustain his human body. Then, slowly but surely, he started to move from one tree to another, making his way out of the forest.

Some time later, he was able to reach the road. There was a gas station a few hundred feet ahead, and it was where he kidnapped the human to use in the spell. The guy’s car was still sitting on the curb, covered in a blanket of snow.

Light was coming from the convenience store, and Lucifer suddenly found himself wishing to go inside, into the warmth. His grace was occupied with his injuries, making him start to feel cold, and it was as unpleasant of a sensation as fatigue.

Still, he restrained himself, opening the abandoned car instead. There, he dug through the glove department in an attempt to find a phone. Even if it was futile, he was able to locate a bunch of quarters in the cup holder between two seats, which he could use in a payphone.

Another car was parked on the opposite end of the gas station, a small family shopping in the store. Lucifer sincerely hoped they wouldn’t walk out and notice him covered in blood and dirt, because he’d have to kill them. He doubted the only other person in the entire universe who could help him now would appreciate finding the archangel in a pile of dead human bodies.

His way to the phone booth was uneventful, however, and as he started to punch the buttons on the rectangular device, he was thankful for his brilliant idea to memorize this particular number.

***

The light in the bunker’s kitchen were dimmed, but there was an extra desk lamp Sam brought with him. With a mug of freshly brewed coffee in his one hand and a book in an old leather cover in the other one, he was reading about different teleportation spells trying to find something to help bring their mom back.

It was quiet in the bunker. Jack was still missing, and Dean was attending to Castiel’s injuries. Not that the angel was hurt particularly bad after escaping Asmodeus, but ever since he’d returned from the dead the last time, Dean was a little overprotective of him.

A few pages later, Sam pondered if he needed to go have a little shut eye. He placed a bookmark between the pages of the heavy tome and closed it, placing it on the table. Then his phone rang.

It was about three in the morning and there weren’t many people who could call him this late. It also came from an unfamiliar number, but Sam picked up the phone and answered the call.

“Yes?” he said into the receiver.

“Hey, Sammy, long time no chatting,” came an immediate reply.

Sam felt the air stuck in his throat, blood freezing in his veins as he heard the familiar voice, the familiar intonation. “Lucifer,” he whispered slowly, afraid to even guess why the fallen archangel was calling him.

One of the most evil and dangerous creatures in creation was back in this world and the realization of it made Sam tremble in dread.

“I know it’s an unusual request,” Lucifer continued, then Sam heard a groan as if the archangel was in pain, “but I’m in a bit of a pickle here, and I thought, hey! I had a bit of a history with you, you might come help out a—”

“Me? Helping out you? Sorry, not sure it’s gonna—”

“Please, Sam,”  Lucifer interrupted him, and there was so much sincerity in the plea, it took the hunter aback. “I helped your lap angel escape Asmodeus, I... I have important information that I really need to rely in person. And I’m not sure how long I can hold out without... _medical_ _attention_ ,” the last part of the sentence was accented with a note of disgust, as if Lucifer hated to even think he required something so low.

But it didn’t make sense, because Lucifer was an archangel, he couldn’t need any medical attentions, or at least one that Sam could provide, was willing to provide. “What?”

There was another groan, and Lucifer coughed. “I’m powerless, Sam. I’m injured. I also might’ve just started another end of the world. But we’ve all been there, no biggie, right?”

“It’s a trap,” Sam stated calmly.

“I’m in Mitchell... Mitchell, ha, what a frigging coincidence! South exit from the city... CD 37 the sign says. There’s a Gas-N-Sip, my car is sort of blue... I think.” There was a muffled thud and another groan.

With that, the call ended, and Sam was left to listen to quiet beeps in the transmitter. Reluctantly, he pocketed the device and rubbed his tired eyes. Logically, he knew all too well what he needed to do. There was a really easy way of finding out if Lucifer was telling the truth, which was to ask Castiel. He also needed to go tell Dean about the call, and after that decide if they were going to attempt finding Lucifer. And, well, if the archangel was telling the truth, and he was really going to die while they were coming up with a plan of actions...

Sam gulped, something dark and cold settling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about Lucifer dying, especially dying because of Sam. The world might become a better place without the fallen archangel, but he wasn’t sure how he could look Jack in the eyes after that. Evil or not, Lucifer was Jack’s father.

Swearing quietly under his nose, Sam finished the rest of his coffee in several gulps, got up from his chair and moved towards the garage.

***

It was a little after six in the morning when Sam reached the gas station the archangel mentioned. He tried his best to make a good time, but somewhere between Nebraska and South Dakota he entered a snowfall and had to slow down his pace, afraid to end up in a ditch on the side of the road.

The gas station was quiet, with only three cars parked in the premises. One of them was occupied, a person sitting on the back played with their cell-phone. The other one was empty, parked next to a pump and there were people inside the store.

The last car, a completely unremarkable sedan of at least ten years, was indeed dark blue. It looked empty and it was covered in snow as if it stood there for the entire night.

The hunter parked next to it, and cautiously excited his car, peeking into its window. There was a person huddled on the back seat. He was dressed in a dirty tan jacket, which was too light for the weather, and dark blue jeans. Both were dirty and torn and, Sam was sure, covered in blood.

Sam couldn’t help but be afraid seeing him. After years of pain and suffering the fallen archangel caused, fear was the first instinct. But Lucifer laid on the back seat of the car, not moving, and Sam realized a little bit of that fear was for the archangel himself. That in mind, he hurried to open the unlocked vehicle, suddenly worried he was too late.

“Hey, hey,” he called the archangel, trying to turn him around and check the pulse on his throat.

Thankfully, he was still alive, but way too hot to the touch. Disturbed by the movement, he groaned and winced, then opened his eyes and looked at Sam, yet his gaze was distant, unfocused. “Mmm, Sammy,” he smiled after managing to suppress the painful grimace, his expression suddenly filled with joy, as if he was honestly happy to see the hunter.

“Wow, you’re really pretty out of it,” Sam raised an eyebrow, not expecting the archangel’s reaction. “One second,” he added and turned back to his own car.

Lucifer’s shoulder was injured, and he had a fever, which meant there was an infection. Or, at least, that what Sam would’ve assumed if Lucifer was a human. What he was now, the hunter had no idea.

Sam pondered about moving Lucifer into his car, but it was easier to just take the one the archangel was already in. On the corner of his mind, he wondered where was the real owner of this vehicle, but decided not to think about it, because he doubted he would like the answer. Then he decided he really lost any thread of common sense as this train of thoughts reminded him who he was dealing with.

Shaking his head, Sam pulled some blankets from the trunk of his sedan, relocating it into the second car. In the end, it wasn’t like he’d never borrowed a random vehicle on the street. After the blankets, came some basic supernatural warding kit and a medical kit. He immediately pulled a pack of antibiotics and ibuprofen for pain and fever and a bottle of water, then returned to Lucifer.

“Come on, take these,” he told him holding out the pills.

Lucifer glanced at his palm with distrust, but reached out and took the medications, throwing them into his mouth. The bottle of water was next. It was a tentative sip at first, as if he was trying drinking out. Then there was another, and the third one and the fallen archangel was gulping down the bottle with greed until nothing was left.

As he threw the empty container onto the car’s floor, Sam muttered another curse. Angels didn’t feel thirst or hunger, which meant Lucifer was in a much worse shape than Sam thought. Not to waste any more time, he made a quick job of clearing the windshield and the rear window from snow and climbed into the archangel’s car.

There were keys in the ignition, but the engine wasn’t running. Still, with a blanket of snow that covered it and a feverish archangel breathing the entire night, it was rather warm inside. Starting the car, he carefully exited the gas station, turning GPS on his cellphone to find a closest hospital. Even if Lucifer had no identification or insurance, real or fake, he could just tell he found him on the curb. The hospital staff would have to take him as John Doe, and later Sam could easily break him out.

“Ugh,” Lucifer moaned from the back seat. “I feel like you need to stop.”

Sam glanced at the archangel in the rear mirror. He was half seating, leaning heavily on the seat in front of him, looking extremely pale. “Are you... are you car sick?” Sam surprised.

“No,” Lucifer replied. “No, I—”

There was a loud groan of either pain, or annoyance, and Sam really though Lucifer was going to empty the content of his stomach onto the back seat. Instead, the archangel crouched to his side, his back arching and suddenly there were feathers. Dark, black feathers everywhere in the car. They smashed through the rear window, shattering it. They hit the roof of the car with a heavy thud, visibly bending it. Some of them were on the front seat, right in Sam’s face, rendering him practically blind.

Sam’s first instinct was to slam the breaks, but somehow he managed to restrain himself, knowing that, on an icy road, it could send the car into a spin. Instead, he used his hand to move the feathers, surprisingly soft and delicate to the touch, away from his field of vision until he was able to see the road again. Only then he started to slowly stop, pulling towards the curb.

“What the hell?!” he breathed out, turning to the archangel who was now spotting to large black wings behind his back.

Lucifer glanced at his own wings with a raised eyebrow and grinned. “Oh... there they are!” he chuckled before passing out.

***

Two hours later Sam arrived to a remote woden cabin practically in the middle of nowhere, and the sun was already raising above the horizon, above the line of trees surrounding the place.

His initial plan of taking Lucifer into a real hospital was thrown into a proverbial window as there was no way he could've explain the _wings_ to the doctors. As the aforementioned wings were also thrown into the littleral car window, Sam was almost freezing by the time they reached one of the Bobby’s safe houses next to the Sioux Falls.

Rubbing his own hands in a futile attempt to bring back his sense of touch, he turned to Lucifer. Now the archangel was blanketed in a combination of own wings, real blankets Sam brought with him from the bunker and a small layer of snow that fell onto him through the broken window over the course of their trip.

“Hey, Lucifer?” Sam called. “Can you move.”

“Mmm,” the archangel groaned in response but didn’t budge.

Sam hurried out of the car and opened the back seat. “Hey, hey, come on,” he encouraged, pulling the blankets off Lucifer and trying to carefully pull him out.

To his relief, the archangel followed without complaint, slowly sliding off the back seat and into the fresh winter air, his wings unfurling in the open space.

Here, in the light of the day, Sam could see they were not black as he originally thought, but dark gray, metallic, and in the rays of early morning sun were shifting their colors into cool greens and blues. They were rather big, larger than Sam imagined, and he had no idea how they fit inside the car so well. The wings were also gorgeous and the hunter immediately wished he could run his fingers through the feathers, already knowing how soft they were.

He restrained himself from doing it, hooking Lucifer’s arm over his shoulder, helping him towards the cabin.

The door to the small wooden house was locked, but the keys vere hidden behind one of the removable wooden panels, which was impossible to notice if you didn’t know it was there beforehand. From the inside, the cabin was small, but cozy. There were two rooms: a bedroom and a studio with a tiny kitchen and a dining table, with all furniture considerably older than Sam, but sturdy, made to withstand passage of time.

It was cold in the house, but the wall between rooms was made of brick, with a fireplace in the middle of it. It was build in a way that a burning fireplace was capable of warming the entire wall and, with that, both of the rooms. Some firewood was already inside, ready to be lit.

The cabin wasn’t particularly bright, with most of the wallas and furniture dark in color and only two windows illuminating it. There were, however, electricity and gas, which Sam suspected Bobby had been secretly stealing from the city, but it also meant light and warm water, so he didn't complain.

Wordlessly, Sam helped Lucifer into the bedroom, laying him down onto the bed. The feathered appendages provided with additional challenge as Sam was trying to settle the fallen archangel down, but in the end he managed to accomplish that task.

“Cold,” Lucifer said and Sam could feel shivers running through him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be most comfortable in cold?” Sam asked, not really expecting an answer, at least not a sincere one.

“I feel... so human,” Lucifer signed, his voice desperate and miserable.

“Wow,” Sam nodded. “Yeah, wait a moment, I’ll start the fire,” he promised and left the room.

To Sam’s relief, the firewood was dry and started to burn almost immediately, the pleasant crackling sounds filling the cabin. The warmth radiating from the fire settled enjoyably on the hunter’s skin, bringing the senses back to his frozen finger as he moved his hands to hover near the flame, a groan of pleasure escaping him.

When he was certain he could operate his fingers with precision, he returned to the car, grabbing the blankets and the medical kit, bringing it back inside.

“Alright, now the shitty part starts,” he explained taking the blankets to the bed, covering Lucifer’s legs — the covers that used to be on the bed looked a bit dusty to use.

“You want to say there’s something worse?” Lucifer chuckled.

“The bullet is still in your shoulder,” Sam nodded pulling a set of tools, another bottle of water and a bunch of towels. “I gave you pretty strong painkillers back in the car, but it’s still going to hurt like a bitch.”

Lucifer actually smirked at that. “After the Cage? Go ahead.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply, setting his mind on the task ahead. Undressing Lucifer felt outright bizarre and very uncomfortable because of the wings. With some water he boiled in a pot, he cleaning the archangel’s shoulder to the best of his ability, before he could start removing the bullet. Somehow, the wound looked days old, red and angry, and Sam had to cut it open again.

It was obvious dealing with physical pain was not something Lucifer was used to. He was groaning loudly, and couldn’t even start relaxing his muscles, gripping Sam’s own shoulder so hard the hunter was sure it would leave bruises. A few times he almost screamed and there were tears gathering in the corners of the fallen archangel’s eyes, yet he managed not to shed a single one.

“Shh, almost done,” Sam tried to soothe him, finishing stitching his skin. “Ok, good as new,” he announced looking at his handiwork.

Lucifer hummed in either agreement or relief, his breathing starting to even. As Sam was finishing bandaging him, he dropped his head on the hunter’s shoulder, making Sam flinch in surprise. There was a ping of fear too, as it was a response to any kind of physical contact with the fallen archangel. Yet this time it was different, the other man feeling so warm and solid and alive.

“Thank you,” Lucifer whispered.

Sam made a short surprised sound blinking in astonishment. “You’re... thanking me? Really?” he asked unable to believe his ears. Reaching for the archangel’s head, he carefully pushed it away from his shoulder and onto the pillows, then touched his his forehead noting it to be hot and dry.

Lucifer was still running a fever, which explained the behaviour.

In turn, Lucifer’s hand came to Sam’s face to cup his cheek. This touch was soft and _intimate_ , like in the vision Lucifer was sending him from the Cage. It was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, especially considering Sam was still hovering over a shirtless man. At the same time, it calmed him down. Almost all traces of fear the hunter had felt since receiving the call disappeared completely, even if he thought it wasn’t a good thing.

“Mmm, I like the stubble,” Lucifer purred rubbing Sam’s cheek, “It makes you look more serious, more... distinguished.”

That raised thousands of red flags, because, fever or not, Lucifer behaved just _weird_. “Ok, glad you approve,” he smiled awkwardly and disengaged, standing up from the bed. “You need to r-rest now. Sleep, maybe. Sleep. Can you sleep?” he was stumbling over words a little and his face felt hot.

Once again, Lucifer surprised him with a slow nod. “I can put my vessel to sleep,” he said, his wings moving to tuck under his sides, hands pulling the blanket over his body, eyes closing.

“Good,” Sam responded exhaling slowly. “Good," he repeated with no particular reason and left the bedroom, still trying to wrap his mind about what happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by [Monkeygirl77](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77)

A few hours later, Sam was soundly asleep on the couch in the already warm living room. He was awoken by a phone call from his brother. The younger hunter starred at the screen for a moment, his brain trying to wake up and come up with the finished version of the lie he’d been plotting since he left the bunker.

“Hey!” Sam greeted his brother, answering the call.

“Where are you?” was the first thing out of Dean’s mouth.

“An old acquaintance called. Just a guy I hunted with years ago,” Sam started to explain. “Almost forgot he existed actually. He finished hunting a ghost, but was injured and needed an extraction. We’re in one of Bobby’s safe houses now.”

Sam expected his brother to complain, but he simply hummed an agreement. “Cool, when you coming back?”

“The guy has a small infection, so I want to keep an eye on him for a day or two.”

Sam already had all of the details about why they couldn’t go to a hospital ready, but Dean didn't even ask about it. There was the final part of the lie left, the one that would ensure his brother wasn’t going to show up here. “If you want, you can come over. Just stop by a grocery store, I’ll text you the list. Also it’s snowing here.”

Dean made a sound of disdain. “Nah, just call me if there’s any complications. See you in a few,” he added and hung up.

Sam placed his phone on the coffee table next to the couch and rubbed his eyes. It was already past noon, which meant he was out for more than six hours. It was a surprisingly long rest considering the circumstances, more that he could get on a better day. Stretching his limbs he stood up from the couch and peeked into the bedroom.

It looked like Lucifer was still asleep. He claimed the very center of the queen sized bed, spreading over its surface like a starfish. A starfish with wings at that. When the hunter had left him, he remembered the wings were safely tucked around the archangel. Now, however, they were unfurled, their span occupying the majority of the room. One of them covered almost the entirety of the floor, while the other was leaning against the warm brick wall.

Sam moved closer and carefully, not to wake Lucifer up, checked his forehead. The fever was still there, but was starting to slowly go down. Lucifer’s breathing was deep and even, his expression relaxed.

Leaving him be, Sam returned to the living room and decided to occupy himself by going through the kitchen cabinets and the ancient looking fridge. It was disconnected, containing only a single half-eaten can of sardines that dried out years ago. He didn’t even try to check if it was in working condition, anything he would need to keep cold, he could just leave outside.

There were emergency supplies in the cabinets, mostly cans or packs of dried stuff. The labels on them said it was food, but Sam really didn’t want to risk it. He was going to need to do a grocery run, otherwise his options were limited to either starvation or food poisoning.

***

Lucifer was still asleep when Sam left. There was no immediate danger to him and he was still weak, so the hunter hoped the archangel would stay inside if he woke up before Sam’s return. Just in case, he left a note in the middle of the kitchen table, because it was possible to see it from pretty much every angle.

It was freezing outside, and driving in a car without rear window was not pleasant, but, Sam’s desire for better food aside, they still lacked a lot of other stuff he didn’t think to pack before he left the bunker.

Most of Lucifer’s clothes were also torn and dirty, and the archangel needed something to change into. Sam doubted his own clothes would fit him, and no way the hunter was going to allow him to walk around the cabin half-naked.

As Sam was returning back with the trunk full of grocery bags, he noted the previously clear sky started to change, heavy clouds drugging from the north. It was going to snow again pretty soon, and Sam only hoped they wouldn’t end up snowbound.

Back at the house, he found the bed empty. Lucifer was not in the bedroom, nor in the living room. He became worried at first, ready to run outside and look for the archangel, wondering if Lucifer could’ve flown away. Then he heard a strange rumble coming from the bathroom, something heavy falling. Without thinking, Sam dropped the bags onto the floor and rushed towards it, hoping the archangel didn’t fall over in his feverish state.

“Lucifer?” he called opening the door, that was thankfully not locked, and immediately was planted face first into the feathers.

They shifted out of the way and Sam saw the archangel standing in the bathtub, still in his jeans, trying to figure out the knobs of the faucet. The metal bar that held the shower curtain laid on the floor, most likely knocked out by his wings. That was the sound that Sam heard from the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked confused.

Lucifer frowned, and only now Sam noticed he looked a little sweaty. Which was also something angels were not supposed to be. “I feel weird,” the archangel replied making Sam want to roll his eyes.

“You can’t take a shower yet, not with bandages,” the hunter signed reaching for Lucifer’s arm, carefully grabbing him by the elbow. There was a moment of panic as Lucifer looked down at the point of their contact, but to Sam’s surprise he allowed the hunter to drag him out of the bathroom.

As he directed Lucifer back to the bed, he was starting to feel a little ridiculous, because taking care of the archangel at this point felt like watching over a child.

“I’m going to finish unpacking the groceries,” Sam told him. “Then I’ll give you more medications and clean you up, ok?”

Lucifer smiled at him and leaned into the pillows, closing his eyes.

***

After a wipe with cool water and another hour of nap Sam checked Lucifer’s temperature again, noting the fever was almost completely gone. As Sam watched him sleep, he took in the sight of how... unthreatening he seemed, wondering if it was going to stay like this when the archangel got better.

His eyes returned to the dark, silvery wings, wondering why were they out like this, in the corporeal world, whether or not it was caused by an injury. He’d looked for information about angel wings once, but the lore was very general, and there was almost nothing about their shapes, colors and translucency. This was a good opportunity to learn new information, maybe even write it down somewhere for the future generations.

Sam reached down for the feathers, the desire to touch them overwhelming him. Gently, he brushed his fingers over the inside of the wing, marveling at the softness of it.

Lucifer made a soft pleased sound, almost a purr and stirred, his eyes opening. He looked at Sam, then down at his hand that was still buried into dark feathers, a concerned frown appearing on his face. His wings snapped, knocking off some dusty books from the shelf. “Don’t!” he growled almost angrily.

“Umm,” Sam pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. I just...”

The arhangel glared at him a little longer, the wings withdrawing, folding under his sides protectively. Then he took a deep breath, relaxing a little, his eyes shifting to look around in confusion, as if he was seeing his surroundings for the first time.

“Where are we?” he asked starting to get up from the bed. His face twisted in pain from the movement and he grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey-hey, careful,” Sam reached for his good side, trying to coax him back into the lying position. “We’re safe, so no need to rush, try to get some more rest.”

Lucifer huffed out something that might’ve been an ancient curse in a dead language, or just meaningless gibberish. “My son,” he said licking his lips. “Did you find him?”

Apparently Lucifer was aware they lost Jack, and the only way he could’ve found it out was if he was telling the truth and really talked to Castiel, escaping the fourth prince of hell together with him.

“Did Asmodeus do this?” He asked gesturing at the wound, feeling suddenly terrified on the prospect of it. He remembered how powerful Lucifer was, and he could barely wrap his head around the fact that a demon could bring him to the brink of death.

“Ha!” Lucifer smirked. “That mistake of my youth? Don’t make me laugh, it actually hurts.”

“What happened then?”

The archangel spared him a glance then looked away, he almost opened his mouth to say something, but instead a rumble came from his stomach. It surprised the archangel as much as it surprised Sam. “Was that me? Am I... hungry?” he asked in confusion, “I think I am.”

The hunter looked at him in shock. “Since when do you eat?” he asked, pondering if the archangel was trying to change the subject, faking it somehow.

“What, don’t want to share? Such a nice person you are!”

“Ok, fine,” Sam nodded crossing his arms over his chest. “Let’s make a deal then, I’ll feed you and you’ll tell me everything.”

Expectedly, Sam continued to look at Lucifer, awaiting for his answer.

Lucifer was looking back at him. “Waiting to seal it with a kiss or something?” he asked finally.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned around. “Ass,” he called him before leaving the bedroom. To tell the truth, he was a little relieved the archangel was both back to his usual self and not trying to kill him at the same time.

***

The lunch wasn’t anything fancy, just chicken breast with green and red peppers, baby carrots and young potatoes fried in a sour cream sauce with garlic and parmesan. Alright, maybe it was more complicated than Sam originally planned, but it was Lucifer’s first attempt at trying food, and Sam wished for it to be something better than a frozen dinner, which he almost ended up buying in abundance before remembering they didn’t have a microwave.

Why he cared so much what kind of food Lucifer end up trying, Sam had no idea, but he told himself it was because he really wanted to prove humanity had some pleasant experiences to offer.

As the food was ready, he brought it into the bedroom, giving one plate and a fork to Lucifer, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed and starting to eat. He was sneaking peeks at the archangel as he was taking his first bite.

Lucifer had a little difficulty holding the plate with the injury, but he managed. He chewed a piece of chicken cautiously, as if he was afraid Sam could poison him, or like he had no clue how human food could taste. After a few bites he continued to eat, but he looked like he was doing a chore, which made Sam slightly disappointed. He also picked out every single piece of onion, leaving them on the side of the plate.

“So?” the hunter prompted.

Lucifer looked in Sam thoughtfully. “If Castiel reached that bunker of yours, I figure he mentioned Michael’s evil twin.”

Sam shook his head. “Only that he escaped Asmodeus. Cas was pretty beat up. Nothing serious, but Dean insisted he rested first. Michael's evil twin? Like the Archangel Michael?”

“Yeah, but stronger,” Lucifer nodded. “Much stronger. From that alternative universe your mommy dearest shoved me into.”

San gripped his fork so tight, his knuckles became white. “Is she... did you...” he tried to ask, but couldn’t find right words, knowing that Lucifer would never allow someone who wronged him to live. He questioned himself once again why he was here, helping Lucifer instead of—

“Ah, she’s fine,” the archangel replied stopping his train of thoughts. “Well, sorta fine. See, that what I wanted to talk about. I have some info about her whereabouts that I thought I could exchange on information about my son.”

“She’s alive?” Sam gasped not able to believe it.

“For now,” Lucifer nodded. “Not my fault,” he pointed out before Sam could interject a single word.

“What do you mean?”

Lucifer send the last piece of chicken into his mouth, chewing it thoroughly before continuing. “Not only had I spared her, I was actually trying to get her out of that dimension. I even managed to do it, but she carried a plus one. A celestial type.”

“You were trying to rescue her? Why?” Sam raised an eyebrow. Then it all came crashing on him. “No...” he stood from his chair terrified. “No, it can’t be, you’re lying.”

Lucifer’s expression went blank. “Right. Here we go again. The disbeliever route.”

Sam rubbed his face. This was bad, really bad. And what made it even worse, was that now he needed to actually call Dean and tell him the truth. His brother was going to be so pissed, Sam knew it.

“So here’s the plan,” Lucifer continued meanwhile, “My son, Jack, he can certainly help with this. If we only can find him, I’m sure we can deal with this.”

Sam groaned at the request. “Really?” Another horrifying thought came to his mind. “You didn't just released Michael to get to your son— Did, did you tricked my mom to say yes to him?”

Lucifer winced hearing it. “How could you even think that? And here I thought we were going somewhere in the department of trust.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, because you’re so trustworthy,” Sam snapped. “Please, go ahead and put yourself in my shoes. Imagine you’re Sam and I’m Lucifer.”

“Imagine? Are you trying to make me experience this... em...  empathy thing? Eww,” he shuddered and made a face, as if the mere concept made him feel disgusted.

“Yeah, try that,” Sam nodded, “I heard it’s good for mental health.”

And Lucifer actually did. He laid there on the bed, propped up by several pillows, looking ahead of himself, an air of concentration on his face.

“Yeah, I guess tricking Mary to say yes to Michael and drag him into this universe just to get to my son sounds exactly like a plan I could come up with. But Sam,” he almost pleaded, “why sacrifice my own powers? My Grace?”

“I’m not sure,” Sam confessed. So that was what happened to Lucifer’s powers then. Some of his grace was cut out.

“Alright,” Lucifer continue, “another important thing. This plan would require me to put my own son at risk on purpose.  And I would never that, because—”

“You want to say Jack is not just another grab for power,” Sam nodded sounding a little unimpressed.

“—I don’t want be a kind of father my father was to me,” he finished seriously, and it was so against his entire character it made Sam second guess everything.

Their eyes met, blue locking with hazel ones and Sam could only nod. Now, no matter how bizarre the entire concept of Lucifer caring sounded, he suddenly felt he could believe it. “And yet you still want to put him in danger to help you fight Michael,” he said nonetheless.

Sam could never imagine he was able to render the Devil speechless. But there he was, looking at Lucifer’s eyes widen, his mouth opening, yet no sound escaping him

***

The younger Winchester was staring at his phone for a good ten minutes before he got enough nerve to call his brother again. As he expected, Dean didn’t take the news well, and Sam could honestly understand him. Dean outright told him to shoot Lucifer, or stab him, or find a different convenient way of killing the weakened archangel.

In the background, his brother was arguing with Castiel on the same topic. It was a mess, and Dean threatened to come over as soon as he could. Sam argued they needed to find out what Michael was doing, and if there were any sightings of him so far. The cabin didn’t have any internet connection for this kind of research.

During their what seemed to be hours long conversation, the wind started to pick up outside, snow starting to fall heavily, decreasing visibility and covering the road. The cell phone signal started to worsen, probably because of the increase in the call traffic, and Sam had never been so thankful for bad weather. He promised to call Dean back in the morning, or asked Dean to call if he had any news and hung up, almost throwing his phone onto the table.

“Family drama?” he heard Lucifer’s voice, which sounded surprisingly soft and understanding and it somehow soothed the hunter’s nerves even if he was sure Lucifer was going to ruin it any moment.

Reluctantly, Sam turned to him, finding the archangel standing in between the rooms, leaning on the doorframe. His chest was bare still. Sam had gotten him new clothes, but Lucifer still couldn’t raise his arm, plus his wings were in the way. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Tired of laying there,” Lucifer replied honestly. “Can’t understand how you humans can stand being sick.”

“It’s not like we have a choice,” Sam sighed.

“Sucks to be mud monkeys,” the archangel said and moved towards the kitchen table, his massive wings dragging behind him.

“Am I a mud monkey?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “I recall saving your sorry ass just recently.”

“You’re a very pretty one,” Lucifer winked at him, making Sam want to slap him with something heavy.

An old coffee maker beeped from the kitchen counter and Sam stood up to get some, pulling two cups from the cupboard. “You’re lucky Castiel returned from the dead, by the way. Otherwise Dean would’ve been here by now, killing you.”

“What did the trick?” Lucifer inquired walking towards the table and taking a seat, descending slowly onto the chair, not to disturb his shoulder.

“With Cas? Our best guess is Jack was able to bring him back,” Sam explained pouring the coffee into the mugs and adding creamer. He wasn't sure how Lucifer preferred his coffee, but suspected he’d never tried it before, so he made it the way he enjoyed it himself.

“Oh, did he now?” Lucifer grinned, pride clear in his intonation.

“We don’t know it for sure, but this is the reason angels want him.”

Sam offered Lucifer the mug and the archangel accepted it with a nod. “He’s too good for them,” he pointed out. Bringing the mug to his lips, he took a small sip, humming in appreciation, before taking another. “What do you think? About my son, I mean?”

“Are you really curious about his well being?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Obviously, It feels strange though... I’m a father,” Lucifer smirked. “When do you think I can see him?”

Sam looked at him from the brim of his mug. “Why did you make him, really?” he asked. There was a tiny part of him, that already knew the answer after their previous conversation about it, but he wondered what Lucifer would answer. “I really doubt it was just an accident, I mean.”

“Telling the truth would be the only way to make you talk?”

“Usually it’s how it goes with people, yeah,” Sam nodded.

“Well, for me it’s usually a little more bloody, and there’s screaming too,” the fallen archangel shrugged and immediately winced stilling himself from additional movements.

Sam felt oddly satisfied by Lucifer’s own caresnessless. “He’s a good person. Jack I mean.”

“Good, evil — they are just relative terms.”

“And by good I mean he doesn’t want to hurt people.”

That made Lucifer grin widely, a mischievous spark in his eyes. “But Castiel said he did hurt you. Was it bad? Was it physical pain? Emotional? Combination of both?”

Sam placed the coffee mug back onto the table, slamming it perhaps a little too hard. “I’m done here,” he announced in annoyance.

***

The night was approaching rapidly, and the weather was only getting worse. The bedroom was warmer than the living room, even if the fireplace was facing away from it. Sam suspected the bigger surface area of the warm brick wall and more trees around the bedroom protecting it from the wind were the reasons for it. That was why he moved the couch into the bedroom, placing it parallel to the bed, but as far away from it as he only could.

They had no TV and the only source of entertainment were the books on supernatural lore. Unfortunately, none of them held information about parallel universes they could use for research.

At some point Sam found a chess set. Turned out they were a pretty good match for each other. Sam was afraid Lucifer could turn pissy after loosing, but the archangel turned out to be a good sport about it too.

Lucifer continued to tease him throughout the evening but on a few occasions, he was nice too and after some consideration, Sam decided the teasing didn’t bother him as much as he originally though. It was comforting even, from a sort of messed up perspective.

“I think I should go check on the fireplace, it’s getting really cold in here,” Sam announced after some time and slid off the bed where both of them sat around the chessboard.

The pile of wood next to the fireplace was almost diminished. It was probably enough for the night, but Sam decided bringing a little extra wouldn’t hurt. The stash of wood was not far from the house, in the shack, just about fifty feet away from the cabin. Grabbing the jacket from the hanging rack at the entrance, Sam opened the door leading to the front yard.

Immediately, he was almost slammed by the current of cold air. The snow on the ground was almost reaching his knees, and it slowed the movement significantly. He made several steps forward, almost tripping over something, yet managed to regain balance.

The wind was whistling in his ears and it seemed it was the only sound that existed. Yet, as he almost reached the shack, he heard a low howl from somewhere close by.

The forest line looked dark, like an impenetrable wall of trees that surrounded the small yard with only the road leading away. The snowfall was blocking the view, and, with the only source of light being the light coming from the windows of the cabin, Sam could barely see a thing. Then a pair of green eyes stared at him from the blackness.

“Shit,” Sam muttered. He didn’t think he needed it, so he had no weapons on him, not even a stick. Still, it didn’t look bigger than a wolf, and they would think twice before attacking humans. “Shoo! Shoo!” he yelled, raising his arms into the air to appear bigger.

The pair of eyes disappeared. Sam took a deep breath pondering if he needed to return or continue moving forward. The night was going to be really cold, he thought, and made another step towards the shack.

A second later he realized it was a mistake as the howl sounded again, and now several pairs of eyes were looking at him. Cautiously, not to turn his back to any of them, Sam began backtracking towards the house. He was making a good way, but as he was closing in on a porch, he reached the same object in the snow he almost tripped over the first time. Completely forgetting about it, he tripped again and, with a cry of surprise, he fell into the snow.

Immediately, the first of the wolves jumped from the cover of the trees, its sharp teeth closing on Sam’s wrist. The other followed suite. Sam cried out in pain, kicking his attacker in the chest, which made the wolf yelp, but not to drop his wrist. A second later another set of jaws closed around his ankle, pulling him and starting to drag.

Sam thought it was the end. It was a really stupid way to go, considering all the things he’d faced and defeated in his life. He’d stopped several ends of the world, was currently nursing the literal Devil back to health in a cabin in the woods, and now was going to be killed by common grey wolves.

As the thought crossed his mind, he heard the door opening behind him, soft light from the inside illuminating the pack. A figure launched forward with an inhuman speed, a first landing on the head of the wolf holding Sam by the wrist. It yelped again, this time letting Sam go and tumbled into the snow.

The rest of the wolves, including the one biting Sam by the ankle, backed almost immediately, obviously not expecting more than one person to appear before them. Using this destraction, Lucifer grabbed Sam by the lapels of his jacket and dragged him onto the porch and inside the house, moving as fast as no human could.

The next moment, Sam found himself on the floor staring at the wooden ceiling. The warmth of the room washed over his face, but his entire body shook with cold and pain, the snow still sticking to his clothes.

Lucifer’s hands were on him, pulling the jacket off, dusting his jeans before they could get wet and Sam had no clue since when the archangel had become so considerate.

“Th-thanks,” Sam muttered, trying to get his teeth to stop chattering.

“We’re even now,” Lucifer replied. “I didn’t like the idea of being in your debt for saving my life.”

And just like that, all amazed gratitude left the hunter. “And if I hadn’t saved you? You would’ve just let them kill me?”

Lucifer fell silent, turning to look at the fire, the soft orange light dancing in his eyes, “I still need you.”

Sam made a disapproving sound and started to move away. “Yeah, great, whatever,” he muttered feeling suddenly hurt, trying, at the same time, to examine his bitten wrist. The wolf's teeth were not able to go through the jacket, but there was a good blossoming bruise in a shape of a canine jaw.

Then he was grabbed by the good wrist and sharply spun to face the archangel, whose eyes were now faintly glowing red, making Sam shiver from a range of different emotions, fear being only one of them.

“Sam,” Lucifer purred, “I’m not your buddy, I’m not going to come to your rescue out of kindness of my heart. Don’t forget it.”

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Sam replied with a challenge. He had no idea where this boldness came from, because even with his grace depleted Lucifer was still impossibly strong. Sam had no doubt about it, because how easily he was picked up by the archangel merely minutes ago. He could probably crash him, but somehow Sam doubted it was going to happen.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, looking suddenly very intrigued, his face moving slightly closer to Sam’s. “Standing up to me?” he smirked, his breath tickling the hunter’s skin, his voice low. “Careful there, Sammy, I might take it as a challenge.”

“Oh?”

Lucifer’s smirk grew, his gaze slid a little down to Sam’s lips, his tongue darting from the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly the hunter wasn’t so sure it was such a great idea to flout the fallen archangel, because it was something like trying to defuse a bomb with minesweeper as only prior experience. He gulped and pulled away, surprised a little Lucifer actually let him go. “You’re bleeding,” he noted noticing there was blood on the bandages covering Lucifer’s torso.

“Yeah, punching wolves while being shot less than a day ago does that,” the archangel sighed, turning his attention to his shoulder.

“Go to bed, I will need to check on it,” Sam said also noting Lucifer to shiver pretty hard, his skin looking a little too pale. He didn’t mean it as an order, didn’t think about it, but to his surprise, Lucifer listened. Standing up from the floor, he moved towards the bedroom, leaving Sam in front of the slowly dying fire, pondering what the hell just transpired between them.

***

As the late evening turned into the night, Lucifer seemed to get a little feverish again. He was still much better than in the morning and he was completely aware of his surroundings. Instead, he just seemed a little quieter, much less prone to make fun of Sam.

Rebandaging the archangel, Sam noted his wound was healing at a fast rate, reminding him Lucifer was not a human. Yet, at the moment, the rest of him looked like one, with only the wings being the sure giveaway to the contrary. They continued to provide Sam with distraction, making his thoughts return to them at every opportunity. It was really difficult not to think about them, considering every time Sam looked at the archangel they were just _there_.

“Fine, what?” Lucifer sighed after some time, most likely catching one of the younger Winchester’s stares.

“Why are they like that?” Sam asked nodding at the wings.

Lucifer glanced behind his back. “They are usually like that when I’m flying or try to intimidate... and well, they usually less material. I just sorta lost control without my grace. I think I will be able to retract them again after resting some more.”

“And what about touching them?” Sam inquired feeling a little embarrassed. “I mean, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Lucifer was watching him closely from the bed, his expression calculating. Then he unfurled one of the wings, bringing it close to the hunter. “Go ahead, just stay away from the wing pit, this part here,” he gestured at the area on the inside of the wing closest to his body, the one Sam previously tried to fondle.

“Are you sure?” Sam gulped already starting to reach out.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Lucifer replied, his wing raising slightly up, as to meet Sam’s hand.

Sam nodded. From the couch, he was only able to reach the further half of the feathered appendage, but it was plenty of surface. His fingers were running through the soft plumage, digging through the wing, becoming a little bolder in their exploration, reaching between the feathers, almost touching the skin.

Those ministrations seemed to be pleasant for the archangel. As Sam continued, he closed his eyes, his expression turning into a blissful one.

“Um, it isn’t something private?” Sam asked starting to feel as if he was doing something he really shouldn’t.

“Sorta? My brother and my Father were the only other beings who ever did this.”

Sam nodded. Even if it was weird, he doubted he ever would get another chance to do it. “You spent the entire day making fun of me, then told me we are not friends. Why do you allow this now?”

“Don’t know,” Lucifer murmured. “Feels nice. When my brother did it, it was like comfort. A human equivalent of hug, I guess?”

“I see,” Sam nodded, understanding Lucifer’s slight fever was probably talking again.

Still, the atmosphere between them turned comforting and for the first time Sam allowed himself to think that maybe they didn’t have to be enemies. He pondered, if in a different universe, with different circumstances, they could’ve been friends. Except in a different universe both of them were dead and the rest of angels turned the planet into a complete wasteland.

“How many universes do you think are out there?” he asked, wondering about a version of him who didn’t hunt, who’d never drunk demon blood, never started Apocalypse. A version of him who became a successful lawyer and married Jessica.

“I think more than two.”

“If there was a different God in the universe that Michael’s twin came from, could it mean, there’s a different God in each universe? And if it’s true, do you think there are creatures above Him?”

Lucifer hummed. “At some point in history you could've been killed for discussing things like this,” he smiled as if those times were somehow nostalgic to him. “At some point I might’ve killed you for proposing it,” he added wistfully. “But now... now I don’t know. It’s possible. It’s a good thought.”

“How so?”

“Perhaps there’s a universe where my Father didn’t force corruption on me, where my brother didn’t turn away from me... where I’m not as messed up as I am here.” he confessed looking rather dreamful and it was just another expression Sam had never expected to see on the archangel.

“I see,” Sam sighed, his fingers continuing to run through the feathers. Silence hung between them, but even it was rather pleasant.

When, some time later, he raised his head and looked at Lucifer again, he noticed the archangel had his eyes closed, breathing like he was asleep again. Reluctantly he let go of the wing and curled into a more comfortable position on the couch. He didn’t feel tired at first, but as the adrenaline from their misadventure outside started to wear off, his body reminded he was really tired, the last day feeling more like a week. Pulling a blanket further over his shoulders, Sam was asleep in the next five minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by [Monkeygirl77](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77)

The sleep was fading slowly, lazily. Sam’s dreams were good and refreshing, which was a pleasant change, and he didn’t want to open his eyes. He was also exceptionally toasty. Not cold, not too hot, just the right amount of warmth. Something shifted above him, and he pondered why was his blanket moving. Yet, he still felt too nice to wake up completely.

The thing above him shifted again, wrapping itself tighter around his shoulders. Several moments later he started to slowly realize it was alive. Another moment passed and he remembered the events of the past night. Opening his eyes, he saw the dark gray wing was stretching out from the bed, reaching as far as the couch and covering him like a blanket.

It was really nice, and just for a while he didn’t move, enjoying the comfort. After some time, Sam decided he needed to get up and tried to push the wing out of his way. However, it didn’t bulge, holding him in place.

Glancing towards the bed, he saw Lucifer asleep on his good side, his mouth open just slightly, pouting. He also had a serious case of bedhead, which was probably the most bizarre thing Sam thought he’d ever witnessed.

“Lucifer,” he called, poking the archangel on the elbow of his wing.

Muttering something incoherent, Lucifer stirred, his eyes opening and landing on the younger Winchester’s face. “Hi, Sammy,” he smiled sleepily and closed his eyes again.

Sam huffed, trying to shake him again, half annoyed and half amused at the archangel’s behavior. “Hey, let me go,” he asked.

Lucifer looked at him again, then at his own wing and Sam felt the grip around him loosening, the wing retreating. Immediately, he regretted it, because he was left exposed to the open air of the room, the blankets slid off of him sometime during the night. Hurrying to put his shoes on, he got up from the couch and went to the living room.

The coals in the fireplace weren’t even slightly warm anymore, and it was so cold, Sam could see breath rising from his mouth. There were several logs left in the pile and he hurried to restart the fire. After that, he went to the stove and lit two out of four burners, determined to let them stay on for at least a little while, to help warm up the room.

When it was done, he returned to the bedroom, picked his phone from the nightstand and almost whistled in surprise as it was past ten in the morning. Considering they went to bed in about elevent, Sam had gotten quite a few hours of shut eye. He remembered setting an alarm clock, and saw that it went off. He simply didn’t hear it. On another hand, he hadn’t felt so rested in a long time, so he wasn’t going to complain.

There were about fifteen messages from Dean and about ten missed calls, and Sam honestly had no idea how he didn’t hear any of that. Deciding not to keep his brother hanging, he moved to the furthest corner of the living room and called him.

“Where the hell were you?!” was the first thing out of Dean’s mouth.

“I was asleep,” Sam confessed. “I’m sorry, I didn't hear you calling.”

There was a pause from Dean, as if he was trying to comprehend what his brother said. “Quite a heavy sleep you got there, Sammy, considering whom you shared the room with.”

There was a note of both worry and amusement in his voice and Sam suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Dean was correct. He should’ve slept lightly, should've been on his toes in case something was going to go wrong. Instead, he felt safer then he ever remembered feeling. There was something really wrong with it, considering Lucifer used to torture him, considering some part of him was still terrified of the archangel.

“I’m surprised myself. Anyway, do you have any news?”

“Yes,” Dean replied and judging by his intonation, it wasn’t good news. “Cas heard it over the angel radio. Michael returned to heaven and, apparently, is now interested in opening the rift between worlds to bring the rest of the angels from the parallel universe over. The local angels seem to be on board with it.”

Sam groaned. Of course it would make sense, with the angels numbers diminishing they would want to repopulate their ranks, and it was as good a way as any.

In the background, through the door frame between rooms, Sam noticed Lucifer climbing out of the bed, scratching his nape and stretching, his wings unfurling as far as the room allowed. Sam got quite distracted by the show, but forced himself to look away. He heard the archangel entering the bathroom, water starting to run.

“How soon can you get here?” Dean asked. “And how subdued is Lucifer?”

“What? No, there’s no need for that,” Sam hissed into the phone, his voice turning into a whisper. “He just _woke up_.”

“So what, the big scary guy sleeps now?” Dean surprised.

“And eats, apparently,” Sam confirmed. “About getting back,” he continued moving towards the window and looking outside. The snow was not much higher than last night, but the road was completely covered. Sam doubted their old sedan could make the trip. “I’m not sure we can get out because of the weather.”

Dean sighed. “Well, we still have no idea how to track Michael. And we need to find the book of the Damned to repeat that spell Rowena used to kick Lucifer back into his hell-house. It should be somewhere.”

“We also need to find Jack. If Michael knows he’s the one who opened the rift in the first place, he might be in danger.”

Dean fell silent again. “If we do find him, we need to keep the senior and the junior away from each-other.”

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t think it’s such a bad idea, to let them meet, I mean.”

Another pause. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“I know, it’s difficult to believe,” Sam continued his persuasion, “but from what I gathered, I don’t think Lucifer’s plans for Jack are sinister. I think he just really wants to meet his son, because... just because. They are family.”

“Are we talking about same Lucifer? The one that almost ended the world? The one who tortured you in hell? The one who killed Cas?”

“Dean, please,” Sam almost pleaded. “I know it sounds strange, but I believe it.”

“Yeah, the Devil just wants someone to love him!” Dean commented sarcastically.

“Dean!” Sam warned. He rubbed the bridge if his nose between his fingers, understanding his brother couldn't even start to imagine how correct he was.

“Ok, that’s enough. Go make sure he won’t do anything stupid. Shoot him if he does and call me if anything happens,” Dean said and hung up.

Sam almost threw the phone on the kitchen table and turned around. Lucifer was standing right behind him, his expression saddened, thoughtful.

“So that’s how it is,” he clicked his tongue and frowned. Nodding a few times he turned away. “Umm, thanks for trying by the way,” he said seriously. “Did not expect it from you.”

With that he returned to the bedroom, leaving Sam standing in the middle of the living room with his mouth agape.

***

Something changed between them. Sam couldn’t tell exactly how it happened, or pinpoint the exact moment it did. Perhaps, it was after the archangel saved him last night, or maybe after an evening he’d spent petting Lucifer’s wings, which lead to a surprisingly open conversation between them. Maybe it was after Lucifer overheard Sam taking his side in an argument with Dean. Maybe it were all those things combined.

It wasn’t like Lucifer stopped teasing him, or stopped being a general nuisance, but the way he looked at Sam shifted. Not once Sam caught the archangel in an act of sneaking glances at him, looking as if he was plotting something.

“Do you think I could seduce you?” Lucifer asked making Sam almost choke on the coffee he was drinking.

Sam made french toast and they were enjoying their breakfast. Or, at least Sam did before the archangel opened his mouth.

Looking up, the hunter saw Lucifer leaning over the table, a smirk on his face. His chin was resting on own hand, his pinkie finger moving over his bottom lip, playing with it.

Lucifer’s shoulder was almost healed after another night of rest, and he didn’t need the bandages. It was very difficult to put a shirt on him because of the wings, but they managed to do it by cutting two sections on the back of a plane gray tee that Sam picked up at a store. Now Lucifer’s slightly pudgy belly was safely hidden away from Sam’s view, for which he was sincerely thankful.

“What?!” Sam managed after what felt like hours of coughing on his drink.

“I asked if you think I had a chance of seducing you,” he repeated.

Sam stared at him for another moment, waiting the archangel to burst into laughing and tell him it was a joke. Of course, Lucifer was generally sort of flirty, it was like a quirk of his personality. He flirted with demons, flirted with angels, with the french toast that Sam made, looking at it as if he wanted to make out with it. But he’d never been so straightforward, so it must've been a joke.

But Lucifer didn’t laugh.

“You mean, like seducing me into being your vessel,” Sam nodded, trying to rationalize it.

“Oh no, like a lover,” Lucifer replied immediately.

“Are you serious?” Sam muttered in shock.

“Why not?” Lucifer shrugged sounding cheerful.

“Why not?!” Sam exclaimed, not sure if he wanted to jump away from the table of slide down to hide under it instead. “How about you tried to kill me. Even that aside, your current vessel is a dude in what, late forties? Early fifties?”

“So is it an issue of gender or age? Cause you are aware I’m not really a man and quite more older than—”

“Neither!” Sam exclaimed wondering if Lucifer really wasn’t understanding or giving Sam hard time to simply annoy him. “All of it is a one giant problem!” he continued gesturing in the general direction of the archangel.

“I mean, you slept with a demon. I’m obviously a step up.”

“Ok,” Sam raised his arms in defeat. “I’m done. This conversation is over!”

“Well, if you ever change your mind...” Lucifer grinned, nibbling on his pinkie.

“No,” Sam replied sharply. “Never.”

***

When Sam looked it up on his phone, he saw the weather was expected to improve. It was supposed to be as high as forty degrees and sunny, which meant the snow on the road would melt away at least partially, hopefully enough for the road to be drivable.

The weather broadcasts were as reliable as tabloid horoscopes, however. The sky had covered in heavy clouds by the middle of the day, and it began snowing again, which meant they were stuck here for at least another night.

After their earlier conversation, Sam was not entertaining the prospect of it.

On top of it, the longer they stayed cooped up, the more boring it became. After the breakfast, they went through the entire collection of the books once more, but there was nothing of interest and reading about random monsters was not something either of them wanted.

Sam found a deck of cards in one of the drawers in a wooden dresser filled with random magic artifacts, none of which seemed especially powerful, none of which could’ve been useful in any potent spells.

Lucifer knew how to play poker, he had knowledge about the rules of the game. That didn’t make him a good player though. His face was very expressive and he couldn't control it. It was rather unexpected to find something that such an old being was so bad at, and Sam was doing his best not to smirk in a weird sort of satisfaction.

It seemed that, unlike hiding his reactions to his hand, it was more difficult to hide his amusement. At some point, he’d gotten a face full of feathers as Lucifer smacked him with his wing, before giving up on the game, dropping his hand face down onto the table.

Less than an hour later, he finished killing the battery on Sam’s phone by playing games. Now he was walking back and forward between the two rooms, getting more and more irritated. “There’s nothing to do here,” he complained.

“Are you sure you can’t fly us?” Sam asked feeling the same kind of desperation.

He was bored too, tempted to call his brother and ask him to maybe dig out a teleportation spell of some sort.  Even if it wasn’t his worse experience of being locked somewhere with Lucifer, it was really starting to get to his nerves.

The snow was still falling, and the wind picked up, which meant going outside for longer that it was needed to pick up more wood was out of the question. Besides, what would they even do outside? Build a snowman?

Lucifer frowned, his wings unfolding and folding behind his back. “No, I’m not able to control them well, so unless you want to end up somewhere in the middle of an ocean, I’d advise against it.” With that he returned to the kitchen area and dropped onto the chair, his head falling onto the table. He starred aimlessly at the bricked wall for a moment, then perked up.

“Tell me more about my son?” he asked. “What can he do? Like you know, powers.”

“Do you still want to convince him to join the dark side or something?” Sam leaned on the back of the chair, starting to pick up the cards from the table and stuff them into the pack they came from. For a second he wondered if he could remember any of the card tricks he learned when he was a kid, but decided against humilating himself. Especially humiliating himself in front of Lucifer. Then he thought about something. “Are you wondering if he can restore your grace?”

Lucifer pondered about it for a second. “A good idea. Technically it’s my grace in him. This humanity thing,” he gestured at himself, “this isn’t me.”

“Alright,” Sam nodded, “And what will you do then? Still try to set the end of the world plan in motion?”

Lucifer grinned, “I don’t know. I mean, I was in that bizarro world, I think the Apocalypse is a bit old-fashioned way of thinking after that. We can just become rulers of the universe instead.”

“And what if he wouldn’t want it? Are you going to force him?”

Lucifer opened his mouth and then closed it again, his expression becoming thoughtful and Sam suddenly realized he had no idea what he would do. “He’ll come around,” he said finally, yet he didn’t sound neither convincing, nor convinced.

“He’s a person,” Sam pushed. “He has feelings and people he cares about. If he says no to you, are you going to take it away from him?”

The archangel was frowning, looking suddenly very small and unsure. Sam knew if he was going to push, Lucifer could snap and send him tumbling to the closest wall. Or he could also get through to him.

“More than that,” the hunter pushed, trying his luck. “There are people who love him. Would you take that away too?”

Something in Lucifer’s expression was shifting. It was difficult to say what exactly was passing through his head, but the air around them cooled a few degree, and the archangel’s eyes started to faintly glow red. It wasn’t anger, but something deeper and more... painful.

Lights started to flicker in the room and went out, and Sam stood up from the chair, looking around. The room sinking into dimness snapped Lucifer out of whatever mood he was in. “What was that?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Sam surprised. “Wasn’t it you?”

“Umm, no?” Lucifer replied standing up too, his wings twitching slightly behind his back, before folding as tight to his body as it was only possible.

Another frightful shiver ran through Sam. He was aware Lucifer and Castiel escaped Asmodeus, and he doubted the fourth Prince of Hell was taking it lightly. It was possible the demon’s flunkies were looking for them. “Crap,” Sam whispered.

***

To tell the truth, Sam would've preferred for it to be demons. At least, in this case, he would’ve known what to do. As it was now, he stared at the giant tree brunch laying over the frozen, torn in half powerline.

It was freezing and windy, and Sam was blowing warm air into his hands, feeling hopeless and annoyed.

“Can you fix it?” Lucifer asked him.

The archangel came outside in case there were more wolves and was standing next to Sam, looming over his shoulder. He was still only dressed in a shirt with holes on the back for his wings. He was shivering slightly, but overall seemed to be less affected by the insane temperature.

Sam wasn’t as handy as his brother, but he thought he was pretty good at fixing things. He had a general idea how Bobby got electricity here, and followed the torn wires with his eyes, wondering how far away the junction box from the main powerline was.

But then again, even if it was in a walking distance, he didn’t have any electrical instruments with him. Neither there were any instruments inside the house. He knew it for sure, because by this time he’d searched the entire place several times in attempt to find any sort of entertainment.

There were howls around them again, and Sam realized that even if he had means of fixing it, it would’ve been a very difficult task.

“No, there’s nothing I can do,” he shook his head. “You?”

“Do I look like an electrician to you?”

It was a horrible turn of events, because not only they were stuck in the middle of nowhere without a means of escape, now they had no electricity. This, in turn, meant Lucifer could entertain himself with Sam’s phone no longer.

***

The temperature continued to drop as the sun was slowly going down. Sam found some candles in the same cabinet he pulled out the playing cards from. They were red and black and some had weird sigils carved into them. They were more than likely meant to be used in a spell, and the hunter was a little worried they were magical.

“This is not real,” Lucifer reassured him looking over the candles. “Some of the symbols don’t even make sense.” He grinned widely then, “what, afraid to accidentally summon Satan? Oh, wait!”

Sam actually chuckled at the joke as he placed and lit the candles around the kitchen area.

It was a good thing the stove was gas and not electric, because otherwise their dinner would’ve consisted of a salad and cold sandwiches. Now Sam was trying to experiment with potatoes and beef, trying to turn them into an edible stew. Unlike the chicken recipe, that he’d learned when he lived with Amy, this one he tried to improvise. Not that he considered himself a good cook, not even a decent one, but he had enough skills not to mess it up too bad.

To his complete surprise, bored out of his mind Lucifer even agreed to help. Yet, when Sam gave him a task of peeling potatoes and saw him butchering the things instead, almost cutting off his own finger once, he took the knife away from the archangel.

As it was, Lucifer had thrown away every bulb of onion somewhere outside the cabin and sat backwards on a chair watching Sam work, his wings unfolded behind him. He looked relaxed and way too pleased with their situation, and Sam wasn’t sure if there was a reason to worry.

“You’re in a good mood,” the hunter pointed out.

“Mhhm,” Lucifer replied. He leaned further over the backrest of the chair, the smile on his face widening. “Dinner, candles. Romantic.”

Sam shook his head. “Still trying to seduce me?” he sighed.

“Your eyes are beautiful in candlelight,” Lucifer said quietly. His voice was so gentle the hunter felt as if it physically touched him, making his skin cover in goosebumps.

“You sound way too cheesy,” Sam huffed, trying his best to hide the reaction.

Lucifer didn’t reply, only chuckled, for that the hunter was honestly grateful.

A silence hung between them, and Sam turned his complete attention to finishing preparing the dinner. Lucifer was quiet, and when Sam glanced back, he saw him gazing thoughtfully at the row of kitchen cabinets. The light was dancing on the skin of his face, making his features look sharper, more angular. Yet he didn't look menacing. Somehow, this light was making him look... softer.

Lucifer turned his head to look at Sam again and the hunter wasn’t able to avert his eyes in time. Their gazes locked and Sam’s heart skipped a beat in embarrassment of being caught staring. They looked at each other for several longest seconds of Sam’s life, until Lucifer broke the moment.

“The thingy you’re cooking,” he said flatly, nodding at the stove. “I think it’s trying to run away.”

***

After Lucifer drained Sam’s phone, it had about ten minutes of charge before they lost power. The hunter didn’t have an adapter for the car, and needed to be very careful with the remaining battery.

Still, he sent a text to Dean asking if he found that teleportation spell, and if he could get them now. It was becoming way too cold even with the fireplace and candles, and dealing with Lucifer was becoming more and more difficult. Not because Sam couldn’t handle his snark, or jokes, but because it was completely the opposite. He was getting way too familiar and comfortable with the archangel and it worried him a little.

Of course, he didn’t mention that to Dean, only the cold.

Less than thirty seconds later, Castiel replied to his question instead of his brother, starting to explain in several lengthy messages about how any spell he was aware of required either previously set up passageways between two places, or ingredients they didn’t have on hand. Sam answered him that it was ok and warned about his dying phone.

It had become dark in the room before six in the evening, and once again they had nothing to entertain themselves. It was so bad that when, at one point, Lucifer proposed playing truth or dare, Sam actually considered it for a second.

“You know, as someone who lived for so long, you gotta have some stories to tell,” Sam tried instead.

Before it became completely dark, Sam dug out a pack of fruit-smelling tea from the grocery bag he completely forgot about. He was excited about the find and even more so when he discovered Lucifer liked it too.

Now, both of them huddled on the opposite sides of the couch, covered in blankets — one for Lucifer and the rest for Sam — drinking tea in the candlelights.

“Sure, I’ve got some,” Lucifer replied. “Like a fascinating story where I was locked in the Cage. It was dark, lonely and more boring that you can ever imagine.”

“I thought you were trying to be nicer to seduce me,” Sam pointed out in a completely uninterested tone. If anything, he could use it in arguments. It didn’t even sound half-weird at this point.

Lucifer looked at him a little amused, rubbing the brim of his cup against his lower lip.  “Ok, fine, but I’ll exchange stories with you.”

“Exchange with me?” Sam surprised. “You’ve literally been in my head before, you know pretty much everything about me.”

“Oh my Dad,” the archangel sighed. “Why would you think I’d read your mind? Why would I need that?”

“Isn’t it like an automatic thing? Read all of the memories of the vessel you possess?”

It was difficult to see the archangel’s face well, but Sam thought he made one of his disgusted faces. “No, it’s more like I can access them if I need something. But I don’t just read them all at once and know everything.”

It was actually a really good thing to know. For a very long time Sam thought his entire past, his every embarrassing memory was something Lucifer knew about. Now it became easier somehow, knowing he wasn’t a completely open book to the archangel.

“Very well. So you want a story for a story?” Sam asked wrapping his hands tighter around the mug of tea. He really had no idea what he could tell that would compare with stories of a billion year old being, but it seemed like a fair deal.

“Yes,” Lucifer confirmed with a wide grin, his wings twitching slightly, seeming suddenly very interested.  “A funny story for a funny story, an embarrassing one, for an embarrassing one.”

“You have embarrassing stories?”

“Everyone has those,” the archangel grinned mischievously, perking Sam’s curiosity.

“Alright fine,” the hunter agreed. “So here’s a funny one. Dad was teaching Dean how to drive. He was like twelve at the time. Not technically supposed to drive, but with our lifestyle, it was a needed thing to know. So, after a few lessons, he obviously thought he was a pro and decided to take me to go show off his skills. He got into the car—”

“I’m already bored,” Lucifer interrupted. “A little too... human?”

Sam groaned, pondering about throwing his mug at the archangel. “Well, maybe cause I am a human? What did you even expect?”

Lucifer was watching him appraisingly. “Fine, here we go. A story about me and my brothers breaking the continents apart. By accident.”

Sam felt his eyes going round. “You mean from the one giant continent?”

“Yes, obviously.”

And Lucifer told him. About how he and Gabriel tried to pull a prank on Michael and tried to hide his sword, about how Raphael tried to stop them and accidentally knocked the sword out of Heaven, and how it landed to the planet’s surface, caused a vibration strong enough to start splitting the giant landmass into parts.

He then proceeded with telling other stories about his time in Heaven. Some were funny, some were unbelievable — Lucifer liked to sound impressive. But they also led Sam to a realization that at some point in time they used to be happy. And now it was broken into pieces that was impossible to glue back together.

“I wrote a song once,” Lucifer said after some time.

“You? A song? What was it about?” Sam asked, wondering if he was really in luck and the archangel would share something so private. Or better yet, sing. He’d heard Lucifer singing a few times before. Of course, it wasn’t a lead vocal in a rock band level, but it was decent enough not to cringe.

“Oh, no,” Lucifer shook his head. “It wasn’t like a human song or anything. An angel song is emotions... and colors... and waves... it really difficult to explain in human language. Heaven used to have dedicated choristers — I know, it sounds lame, but they were actually pretty useful in combat, they could resonate with others’ grace...”

“Like bards in a LARP,” Sam mused outloud.

The archangel raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on the comparison. “So I had an argument with Michael about the usefulness of these angels. I wanted to prove I could fight and sing at the same time,” he chuckled a little nostalgic. “Well, it didn’t work so well. Raphael actually laughed at me... Michael,” he paused, a soft sort of smile appearing on his face, an expression Sam had never seen and had never expected to see. “He said he liked it. Lied of course, but...”

Sam was staring at him little shocked. This was more that he expected, more than he even though he could expect. “I’m sorry,” he whispered not sure what else he could say.

Lucifer was quiet and Sam understood how alone he felt. He was so different from what he used to be all those years ago, when he tried to bring the end to the world. The corruption of the Mark was gone, but it had been affecting him for so long, that he could barely remember anything else. He was alone and hurt and the only way he knew how to respond was to hurt back.

It seemed Lucifer realized what happened, his back straightening. “Ok, that’s too much sharing,” he grunted.

“Yeah, ok,” Sam agreed, wondered if he could show him a better way. If there was even a chance for it, he thought he needed to take it.

***

When Sam finished with his evening routine and exited the bathroom, he saw Lucifer already in bed. “If you feeling more comfortable about the cold, can I use the remaining of these blankets for tonight?” Sam asked pointing at the extra pile on the couch. It was so much colder tonight and Sam doubted he could sleep comfortably if they had to share them.

“Mmm, there’s a better solution, you know,” Lucifer pointed out. “The bed is big enough,” he added with a grin patting a spot next to him.

“Yeah, right,” Sam replied trying to sound as annoyed as he could. For some reason, after the entire seduction conversation, he had a feeling Lucifer was going to propose sharing the bed.

“Come on, Sammy, I won’t do anything you won’t like.”

Sam caught the archangel’s knowing smirk and sighed. On one hand, it was really cold and it was going to only get worse. Sharing a bed would be beneficial, if only it was anyone else but Lucifer. “What are you even trying to accomplish?” he asked.

Lucifer hummed scratching his chin. “For you not to die of hypothermia? Because your brother would want to kill me,” he shrugged, “and without my powers he might actually accomplish it.”

“You’ve told me you wanted to seduce me earlier, why should I believe you won’t get... handsy?”

Lucifer made a disgusted face. “I won’t touch you without your consent.”

Sam hummed. “You tortured me. And that is an area you need a consent for? Why didn’t you ask whether or not I wanted you sticking a knife under my ribs, or cutting fingers off my hands?”

There was a ping of something in Lucifer’s face, almost regret, but it was gone so fast Sam thought he might’ve imagined it. “I have standards, Sammy,” he shrugged.

“ _Standards_?” Sam nodded. “Like you fooled Kelly into sleeping with you, possessing her lover?”

Another wince crossed Lucifer’s face. “Why did you have to bring her into this?” Then his eyes widened, “oh, Sammy, are you... are you jealous?”

“What?” Sam blurted shocked, because that was definitely not what he meant. “No! And you are just trying to avoid the topic.”

“Water under the bridge, kid. Besides, you were warned about your fate before you jumped into the Cage, you have no right to complain.”

“Oh, forgive me for wanting to save people I care about.”

Lucifer grunted. “So, you coming to bed, or will I just have to defrost a Winchester popsicle in the morning?” he inquired.

Sam thought about it. No matter what, he did trust Lucifer not to try anything during the night. He could choose to be proud and shiver the entire night, trying to sleep on a not too comfortable couch. He remembered the warmth of Lucifer’s wing and how nice it felt to be wrapped in it. He doubted the archangel would do it again if he was going to choose the couch.

“And you promise not do anything?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Oh for crying out loud! At this point I honestly believe it’s you who can’t get your mind out of the gutter.”

Sam groaned. He grabbed all the blankets from the couch and moved towards the bed. He climber under the one blanket Lucifer had and spread the extra ones on top of both of them. Turning his back to the archangel, he closed his eyes.

The bed shifted as Lucifer reached for the candle to blow it, then it shifted again and Sam felt the warmth of another body somewhere very close to him. He could feel Lucifer’s eyes on him, could hear his breathing. He knew there was barely any space between them, yet not a single part of their bodies touched. Even Lucifer’s wings seemed to be tucked somewhere behind him.

It was difficult to fall asleep like that, Sam’s thoughts continued to shift in the directions he really didn’t want them to go. He didn't think about sleeping with Lucifer of course, but wondered why was he hitting on him. At some point he even wondered if by some chance the archangel had a legitimate interest in him, but he doubted it was the case. Pondering if the Devil could fall for him was like pondering if he could learn to breath underwater without magic.

Lucifer was simply bored. That was the best explanation.


	4. Chapter 4

It was difficult to fall asleep that night. Both because Sam didn’t feel even remotely tired, and because the closeness to Lucifer was making his skin buzz in a manner Sam couldn’t explain. He wanted to toss and turn, but he was a little afraid to move, worried he could disturb Lucifer beside him. Or, even worse, accidentally touch him.

At some point he turned around, sneaking glances at his bedmate. Lucifer seemed asleep, or at least his eyes were closed. It was dark inside the cabin, but the archangel laid on his back, and Sam could see the silhouette of his face against the faint, blue moonlight coming from the window. His chest was raising and falling slowly, his wings were tucked around him. Sam wondered if at some point during the night Lucifer was going to stretch them out.

“You’re going to drill a hole in me if you keep staring at me, kid,” Lucifer said quietly and turned to face Sam, making the hunter flinch, caught completely off guard.

Sam wasn’t sure how to answer. He felt uncomfortable to be caught, but it wasn’t like Lucifer had nothing to do with it. “Can’t sleep,” he muttered, trying his best to sound casual.

“Me neither. I’m unsure if I even need it anymore.”

Lucifer turned his head in Sam’s direction, his eyes glowing faintly, and the hunter wondered if it was a side effect of him using his powers to see in the dark. He was looking at Sam closely, as if studying him.

“What do you remember about the Cage?” the archangel asked after what seemed like a long time of silence.

The question alone brought back memories of intense pain, despair unlike Sam had ever experienced outside of his imprisonment in Hell. Amidst it all was Lucifer’s smirking face, his expression of enjoyment from making Sam suffer. Taking a deep breath, the younger Winchester forced himself to push the memories away. “You were there, you know what happened,” he pointed out trying to calm down his heart from beating too fast.

As Lucifer was now turned away from the window, Sam couldn't see his face. Only his eyes that just for a second flashed a little brighter, before returning to a faint, barely noticeable glow. “I guess I was,” he agreed. “But memories can be deceiving. Human memories that is.”

Sam frowned. “Do you want to say my memories are wrong?”

“No, not wrong. Incomplete,” Lucifer said and started to reach out for Sam’s forehead, moving his hand slowly, as if giving the hunter opportunity to pull back.

Sam didn’t. He closed his eyes as the archangel’s cool fingers landed on his forehead. He wasn't sure what else he expected, but the memories started to flood him again, memories that he worked so hard to forget about. Immediately, he slapped Lucifer’s hand away. “Don’t! Stop!” he hissed, trying to catch his breath.

The archangel withdrew his hand, but kept it hanging in the air in front of Sam’s face. “Sam” he said with expectation, as if he really believed he didn’t do anything wrong just now.

Sam moved completely away, almost falling from the bed. “No, please, stop!”

“Sam, wait,” Lucifer tried again, slowly moving closer. Then his attention was elsewhere, head turning towards the window. “We have company.”

He didn’t even have time to finish his words, as soul wrenching howls sounded from somewhere nearby. This time Sam was sure they were not coming from the wolves.

“Hellhounds,” the hunter gulped. Everything that happened just now was forgotten, pushed away. At least the adrenaline rushing through his system helped him now, making him more alert to the danger. “Can’t you just control them or something?” he asked reaching for the demon killing knife he kept on the nightstand.

“If you happen to have my grace lying somewhere around, sure,” Lucifer replied jokingly, yet through his sarcasm, Sam could clearly feel fear in the archangel’s voice. That was a new one.

Trying to take a deep breath to calm himself, Sam looked around. “The house is warded pretty heavily, a demon would have a hard time—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, because the next moment something exploded near them and the window shattered, the broken glass flying in every direction. They stood too close to it, and there was enough glass to seriously injure the hunter, but a dark wing rose between him and the explosion.

Lucifer whimpered in pain, then grabbed Sam by the jacket. His wings came to life, flapping against the limited space in the room and the hunter felt himself being pulled somewhere away, his body losing weight and volume, the bedroom they stood in disappearing.

The next moment Sam found himself falling face first into the snow, the freezing temperature of the outside hitting him harder than the impact with the ground. Lucifer landed beside him, coughing, and gasping for air, one of his wings slapping against the snow, while the other hung loosely as if injured.

Sam scrambled to his feet and looked around. They were in the middle of the forest, but he still could see the smoke of the chimney from the cabin, hear the howls. “We need to move,” he groaned reaching for Lucifer’s arm and trying to pull him up.

The archangel seemed to be completely on board with this plan, because the moment he was on his feet again, he started to run in the direction Sam was tugging him.

Unfortunately, the situation was stacked against them. The moonlight was reflecting from the white cold blanket on the ground, making it easy to see, but the snow was too high and they were moving too slow. Even when Lucifer pulled ahead and was now dragging the hunter through the snowmass, it didn’t improve their speed by a high margin.

The forest was thick, overgrown. The tree branches were slapping against Sam’s sides, the pain from it was leaving him completely out of breath. On top of it, he was dressed in what he went to bed, not wearing any shoes, and even if his shirt had long sleeves, it offered almost no protection from below freezing temperatures.

Several minutes into the chaise, the howls started to surround them, now coming from ahead as well as from behind them. Sam pulled on Lucifer’s arm, trying to convey they needed to change the direction, but the archangel stopped still.

“We’re completely surrounded,” he announced and Sam could hear how out of breath he was.

“Do you think we stand a chance in a fight?” Sam inquired feeling the exhaustion in his body answering his question.

Lucifer was looking around, and panic was reflecting in his expression. “I have a horrible plan,” he said and took a deep breath. And then he started to pray, directing his words to every angel in Heaven, mocking their ability to kill demons, mocking their abilities to finish off weakened Lucifer and the hunter who was responsible for imprisoning the real Michael. Sam was sure Lucifer didn’t speak English, but somehow he understood every word of it.

“That is a horrible plan,” Sam agreed completely when Lucifer stopped speaking.

“We might be dead either way, might as well...” the archangel smirked.

“Well, well, well, what do we got here,” a third voice came and a figure of Asmodeus appeared before them.

The new King of Hell was dressed in his usual white suite, a cane in his hands. He seemed to be utterly unaffected by the cold, and the snow wasn’t slowing his movements. He stood before the archangel and the hunter, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Several other demons appeared behind him and several more came from the different direction, effectively surrounding them in a tight circle.

“Drexel, darling,” Lucifer smirked at one of the demons next to Asmodeus, making the young looking guy flinch and move a little further to stand behind the King of Hell. “Are you cheating on me? I thought we had something, thought you enjoyed our alone time,” he winked, which now switched the attention of most of the demons to Drexel.

Even Asmodeus’ gaze slid slightly in his direction, and it seemed it was what the archangel was hoping for. Sam wasn’t sure how the demon killing knife appeared in Lucifer’s hand, but the archangel hurled it towards the Prince of Hell. Only for Asmodeus to catch it without effort. Immediately, every demon made a step forward, ready to attack.

“Wait, wait,” Lucifer raised his hands in defeat. “Let’s talk this out, perhaps?”

Asmodeus signed. “You’re out of tricks, Lou. And trying to summon angels will not do any good. I thought you were aware they can’t fly anymore.”

Asmodeus couldn’t have been more out of the loop, and the moment the words left his mouth, a flaming sphere flew down from the skies. It passed between the Prince of Hell and Lucifer, melting snow and leaving a burning scar in its wake, then it collided with the ground merely sixty or seventy feet away. The shockwave from the impact was strong enough it threw every demon, together with Sam and Lucifer backwards, leaving only Asmodeus to stand and gape at the figure that was rising from the creator with surprise.

Sam was trying to get to his feet again, already tired from diving into snow for half the night. He looked up to see what was happening, but it was still difficult to concentrate on the silhouette in the middle of a glowing ball of light.

“Sammy, we need to move,” Lucifer’s voice came from next to him, a hand landed on his shoulder and started to pull.

The hunter knew who it was and wanted to see his mother with his own eyes, but Lucifer was right. They were most definitely going to die if they stayed. That was why, once again, Sam pushed own exhaustion to the side and started to run after the archangel.

There were explosions, cries of pain, howls of hellhounds changing into yelps. Sam though they covered enough of a distance, yet as every sound quieted down, he felt something rushing past the two of them. The next second he almost collided with a familiar figure.

It was much smaller than him, but it was Sam who recoiled, almost falling again. A pair of hands caught him, and he remained to stand and stare at the face of his mother. Yet it wasn’t her. He’d never spent much time with Mary, but he could tell it instantly. The expression was wrong, the stature. Everything in her screamed of wrongness, and it made Sam sick to his stomach.

The moonlight was falling onto her short curly hair, outlining her head in soft light, and when she raised her head, her eyes were glowing the exact shade of whitish blue, her face stern and angry.

“That was a foolish move to announce yourself too Heaven, brother,” Michael said through Mary’s lips.

“Ok, let’s get this straight,” Lucifer groaned. “You’re not my brother. You're just some freak, cheap version of him. You don’t even _feel_ like Michael.”

“Except it doesn't matter,” the other archangel smiled. “I thought I could give you a chance to live, but I decided not to dwell on the past. I like it in here, and I can’t wait until my own army can join me and replace that stumbling, useless bunch of fools calling themselves angels in this universe.”

“You’re lying to them?” Sam surprised.

“This is so me of you, I actually feel nauseous,” Lucifer laughed, yet his voice was full of disgust.

“This is none of your concern,” Michael said. “You useful to me no longer, and I shall get rid the world off your influence.”

“Oh, my horrible, evil influence again,” Lucifer threw his arms into the air.

“Of course, I am a good guy after all,” Michael nodded. “Anyway, I made a mistake letting you live, now I’m going to collect the rest of your grace and be done with you,” he announced stepping closer to the fallen archangel, a blade appearing in his hand.

Sam was aware he could do nothing, he couldn’t even slow Michael for a second. He had not a slightest idea why, but he still inserted himself between the two archangels. “Get away from him,” he ordered. “And get out of my mother.”

Michiel switched his attention to the hunter, tilting his head as if he saw him for the first time. “Your mother?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “You’re from the same bloodline? Sam... Winchester, right?” He proceeded to look between Sam and Lucifer, his expression changing from amused to surprised. “An archangel and his true vessel? This it the most interesting turn of events. I was going to ignore you, but now I think I might kill both of you,” he shrugged and moved forward, raising his sword to strike.

Sam thought it was really the end. He closed his eyes, preparing for the worst, but instead he heard a second pair of wings flap. A wave of energy passed right in front of his nose, and Michael was pushed by the incoming force and sent flying into the nearest tree.

When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Jack standing before him, frowning. His gaze moved to behind Sam, and fell onto his real father. “You’re him,” the nephilim said calmly. “And you’re protecting him?” he turned to Sam again sounding confused.

“No,” Sam heard Lucifer whisper behind him almost in panic. “No-no-no.”

Jack frowned, but before he could reply, a different wave of force slammed into him. Instead of pushing away, it immobilized him, making the nephilim gasp and grasp at his own throat as if he couldn’t breath.

“Get away from him!” Lucifer yelled and ran towards Michael. There was no plan to his atack, no usual sassiness in his voice, just raw and uncontrollable desperation.

Lucifer couldn’t do a thing. The moment he reached Michael, he was slammed by the archangel’s hand so hard he flew into Sam, sending them both tumble to the ground.

“This is just my luck!” Michael laughed. He walked towards Jack slowly, grabbing him by the lapels and lifting him off the ground without any effort. “So much power in this one, yet no training. And here I was wondering how could I hurt you the most.”

“No, no,” Lucifer continued to plea.

“I was in your head, I saw the only person in entire creation you really care about. Your son. So tell me, do you think it’s going to hurt more to watch him die, or to watch me taking him away from you?”

Jack’s eyes were wide and he tried unleashing his powers again. They slammed into Michael making him flinch and grit his teeth in pain, but he didn’t let the boy go, gripping tiger into him instead. Jack pushed more and Michael’s vessel, Sam’s mother, started to cover in blisters, as if burned.

“Stop it!” Sam yelled, “Please. You’re going to kill each-other.”

“Sam!” Lucifer turned to look at him. “Sam, I’m begging you, save him. It’s the only thing I will ever be ready to beg for. Please.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he realized what Lucifer was asking for. “You...” He stumbled unable to formulate a response. He glanced at the fight again, understanding neither Jack nor his mother might survive this. The air around them was cracking with raw powers, so potent the snow was melting several feet around the two, raising as mist and making it difficult to focus.

“Will you save my mother?”

“I give you my word I will do my best.”

“Then yes.”

Sam had time to think about how much he just screwed up. He wondered if he started another end of the world, acting foolishly and out of desperation. Then he felt Lucifer tremble in his arms, his vessel starting to emit light. The archangel’s grace reached for him, sipping into his body through his skin, leaving it buzzing with familiarity. It was a strange sensation, but the hunter couldn’t deny it was a pleasant one, his entire body lighting up, his muscles trembling as his archangel was integrating himself into Sam’s nervous system.

It was the thrill, the exhilaration. Different from the last time Lucifer was possessing him, as his powers were diminished so much, but it felt so right nevertheless. He was able to sense Lucifer’s joy too, his pleasure of joining with his true vessel, his victorious laughter ringing through every cell of Sam’s body.

And then it stopped, the time slowed down to the point Sam could see every single snowflake freezing still in the air.

“Sam,” he heard Lucifer’s voice in his head, which sounded deeper and more clear than the voice of his vessel, but not entirely like his true voice. _“Even like this, I’m too weak. I have to ask for something more. And it’s only possible if you’re cooperating completely.”_

 _“What is it?”_ Sam asked. Somehow he still could see everything around him, still felt in control of his body, as if Lucifer merely ricided in him and wasn’t possessing him.

_“Your soul. If I tap into its power, together we stand a chance.”_

_“Isn’t it dangerous?”_ Sam asked suddenly very unsure.

_“If I use it for too long, yes. But I promise I won’t take more than needed.”_

_“Why are you suddenly care about my wellbeing?”_

Sam felt the archangel’s amusement. _“I don’t think Jack would ever speak to me if I accidentally killed you.”_

 _“This is very reassuring,”_ Sam rolled his eyes. Or at least attempted to, as the time was passing way too slow outside of his head. _“Will it hurt?”_

 _“No,”_ Lucifer replied immediately. _“But it’s going to be... intense. For the time being, were are going to become one. Literally. You will be in my head as much as I will be in yours and trust me, I wouldn’t allow something like that if the situation wasn’t so dire.”_

 _“Very well,”_ Sam agreed still a little nervous. _“As long as you give me your word not to hurt mom.”_

At first nothing was happening, then Sam started to feel Lucifer _slyther_ further into him and all around him, around his _entire being._ It was a whole new sensation, and Sam had no idea whether it was pleasant or disturbing.

Then he was falling. His wings were in so much pain he wanted to cry. But most of all he wanted to cry because of the betrayal he felt. “Father, why have you turned on me?”

Sam remembered his fight against Darkness, the key to her prison that was engraved into his forearm, the poisonous whispers in his head, the corruption that was spreading through him. He didn't want it. He wanted none of it, but he couldn’t fight it. “Brother, please help me!”

Michael was looking at him with pity and distrust and Sam hated it, because the only thing he wanted was an understanding. Why Michael couldn’t understand it wasn’t his fault? None of it was his fault. And it hurt so much, Sam felt tears starting to run down his cheeks.

 _“Sam! SAM!”_ Lucifer called out.

Sam opened his eyes seeing the archangel before him. He looked nothing like his current vessel, not even human, but a figure made out of pure white light, with enormous dark gray wings behind his back. It was strange, because Sam couldn’t distinguish a single feature about the archangel’s appearance, yet he knew he was looking at the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on.

 _“Lucifer, I...”_ Sam tried, but couldn’t find words.

 _“It’s ok,”_ the archangel replied, moving, shifting, until his body turned longer, a little more corporeal. He moved closer to Sam, wrapping himself around the hunter in rings. A head of a giant serpent appeared before Sam’s face, two large red eyes staring at him.

Lucifer touched Sam’s forehead with his nose, and the hunter felt his heart starting to calm down. Craving more of that calmliness, he reached out for Lucifer’s head, his palms rubbing against cool scales, bringing it even closer, leaning his forehead against the archangel’s.

 _“Yeah... yeah...”_ he whispered, understanding it were not his memories, neither it were his emotions.

He opened his eyes and now he was back in the forest, the time returning to normal, the snowflakes starting to fall again. Michael stood before him, holding Jack by the throat, the boy’s legs dangling uselessly above the ground, waves of energy emitting from his body, continuously injuring his attacker.

 _“We need to be fast,”_ Sam though and felt wings spreading wide behind his back. One of them hurt, but he pushed past the pain.

If he thought it was different from the first possession, now he couldn’t even find a single point of comparison. Lucifer was not possessing him, he was Lucifer and the archangel was him. One body, one mind. If he only allowed himself, he knew he could read every single memory from the archangel’s past, every single thought that had ever crossed the his mind. He was curious, but didn’t do it.

A flap of wings and Sam was before Michael, landing a punch on his solar plexus, making the archangel release the grip on the boy and fold in two, his face twisting in pain and confusion.

“How?” He gasped trying to get up, but Sam was faster again, closing in and punching the archangel in the face.

“Jack!” he called out. “Jack you need to kick him out of her!”

The boy’s eyes snapped at him, eyes going wider. He nodded and Sam saw a pair of wings appearing behind his back, dark gray, the same color as Sam’s own. He beat them once, exhilarating himself, throwing himself forward at Michael. His hand landed at the archangel’s forehead, eyes staring to glow yellow.

Michael tried to get away, to hit Jack, but Sam gripped his arms, holding him still. The archangel yelled as in pain, golden veins spreading around his face, spreading from under Jack’s palm. A second, another, and the entire forest flashed in bright white light. Mary’s mouth opened and strand of energy flew out, raising high into the sky, disappearing out of the view.

Everything quieted down, the forest sinking back into darkness, and even moonlight felt like not enough to pierce it. Mary fell into Sam’s arms, her eyes closing. She was alive, the archangel didn’t need to check the pulse or breathing to know it, it was a simple knowledge that registered somewhere in the back of his mind, calming down his worry for his mother. There was a few cuts and bruises, two of her ribs were broken, but it was alright. Mary was going to be fine.

“Get out of him,” Sam heard his son speaking. He turned in the direction of the voice and saw Jack standing before him, his posture defensive, as if he didn’t trust Sam. That hurt the archangel, sadness and pain feeling like a physical punch.

“Jack,” he tried still, smiling softly to his son. “It’s me.”

Jack’s eyes glew golden and he raised his arm ready to attack. “You’re killing him, get out!”

Something inside Sam shifted and pulled away. He tried his best to hold on, but the strength of the pull was too much. It was separating from him, but he didn’t want to lose it. _“No, no, no, no, please!”_ he pleaded grasping onto the tendrils of the presence.

 _“Shhh,”_ Lucifer whispered softly. _“You’ll be ok too.”_

Sam’s mouth opened against his will, something cold, but soft sliding out his throat. He felt himself separating from Lucifer completely, as they turned into two different persons again. With a sense of great disappointment the hunter watched him fly out his own body in a new flash of light. Then he flew towards the abandoned, lifeless vessel on the ground, seeping into the human body. A second later, Lucifer opened his eyes with a loud gasp, starting to cough.

Still holding his mother in his arms, Sam tried to make a step towards the archangel, meaning to reach out for him, but the ground was too shaky. Everything around became too dark, too dull, too cold and empty. His muscles felt weak and he started to fall down. The last thing he remembered was the wet mud colliding with him painfully, then everything went completely black.

***

The next time Sam opened his eyes he was tucked in what he immediately recognized as own bed in the bunker. He was covered in a thick layer of blankets and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt warm and comfortable. It was such a good feeling and he still was so tired he wished for nothing but to sink back into the slumber and continue sleeping, perhaps for a few more days.

Yet, something was missing. Something very important, as if someone cut out a part of him and left him in pieces. Reluctantly, ignoring the soreness in his body, he rose from the bed and looked around.

There were several tiny windows right above the ceiling in his room, and Sam could see sun shining brightly, which meant he’d gotten at least six or seven hours of sleep. It felt like much less although, and Sam looked at the electronic clock on his night stand, which showed him it was almost three in the afternoon.

There was nothing different with his room, it was exactly as he left it a few days ago when he responded on the distress call from Lucifer.

Lucifer...

Sam got up from the bed completely noting he was changed into pajama pants and a clean t-shirt. Next to his bed, he found a pair of sleepers and slid his feet into them. It was still chilly so he pulled one of the blankets from the bed, wrapping it around his shoulders before exiting his room.

The bunker was quiet as he was making his way towards the dungeon. He knew Lucifer was there, both because it was logical for Dean and Castiel to lock him up, but also because he just _knew._

He really wished to move unnoticed, but he needed to pass the main hall and that was where he found Dean and Mary sitting at the table, conversing quietly.

“Hey Sam, you woke up!” Dean greeted him. There was a genuine happiness and concern in his brother’s expression, which lead Sam to believe he arrived in a pretty bad shape after their encounter with Michael.

“Sam,” his mother greeted him, looking every bit as healthy as it was possible, all the cuts and bruises gone without trace.

Sam knew he needed to stop and talk to them, or at least reply in some manner other than barely distinguished grunt, but he couldn’t stop his own legs from moving. He _needed_ to see the archangel as if his life depended on it, so he simply passed his family and continued on his way downstairs.

Sam heard his brother calling after him, saw in his peripheral vision both of them following him, but he didn’t care. As he reached the storage room, he moved towards the large case, pushing it out of his way, revealing the chained archangel.

“Hey, kid,” Lucifer grinned at him. “Came to say hello to good ol’ me?”

The dungeon was cold, almost freezing, but it wasn’t as bad is the few previous days. Lucifer was sitting in the middle of the room on a chair, chains strapped to his wrists and to his neck, his dark wings gone. It annoyed Sam to see him chained, and he reached for the key that sat on the shelf outside the room.

“Sam, what the hell you think you doing?” Dean asked.

Sam could find the strength to reply, so he shook his head. He wanted to unlock all of the locks holding Lucifer, but it seemed Dean caught up with his intentions. He reached for Sam’s hands and pulled the key off of them.

“Sam!” he almost yelled, “Snap out of it, whatever it is!”

Sam was upset that he couldn’t free Lucifer, but he didn’t want fight Dean. Instead, he simply walked towards the archangel and climbed onto his lap, placing his head onto the archangel’s shoulder and wrapping both of them into the blanket he brought.

It was rather strange. Lucifer’s body was unexpectedly warm and Sam couldn’t stop himself from hiding his face into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling the pleasant smell of the archangel’s skin. Immediately, he felt at peace, like he was reunited with the part of himself that was missing.

“Ah, my dear Sammy,” Lucifer chuckled warmly, his hands coming to wrap around the hunter’s waist under the blanket. “Not that I mind this sudden attention, but we do have some spectators.”

Sam heard a throat clearing from behind of him and froze, the reality of the situation suddenly catching up with him. Jumping off Lucifer’s lap, he spun around to see both his mother and his brother staring at him with their eyes wide in shock and confusion.

“This is... this is not what it looks like,” Sam blurred out in panic.

“Yeah, usually it’s less cuddly and more hair pully,” Lucifer provided, making Sam want to punch him. “He’s very passionate.”

“Ok,” Dean nodded, both of his eyebrows raising upwards almost comically,  “You want to... explain yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head suddenly afraid of his own behaviour.

***

About twenty minutes later Dean had dragged him away from the dungeon and back into the main hall. Ten minutes and a cup of hot tea made by Mary after that, Sam felt a little better. His entire body still hurt all over, and he still felt like he hadn’t slept for days, but at least his mind was clearer now.

He was thoroughly examined by Castiel with all the medical precision of a veterinarian who wasn’t satisfied with his job. He checked his eyes, his mouth, ears making Sam feel like one of those purebred dogs presented before judges.

“There are traces of Lucifer’s grace everywhere,” Castiel noted after his examination.

“Great,” Dean muttered. He was sitting on the chair on the opposite side of the table looking at his brother with distrust, as if Sam could go rabid and bite everyone in the room. “What about any weird spells he can be under.”

“There are no weird spells,” Castiel sighed.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Mary asked, placing a hand over Sam’s one and squeezing it. She looked at him apologetic, and Sam felt as if she was ready to pull out a doll and ask to show where Lucifer touched him.

Sam told them all about the events of the last days. He described everything happened last night, leaving out only the part where he shared a bed with Lucifer right after the archangel was trying to hit on him. He tried to explain the merging of their soul and grace as much as he could, without making it sound intimate. It was a difficult task and Sam doubted he managed to do it well.

“Great, how did you manage to kick the bastard out?” Dean asked.

“That’s the deal, Dean,” Sam shook his head. “Lucifer just left. On his own. I mean Jack told him to, but even without it, I know he had no intentions to stay.”

“Right, cause the Devil such a considerate person!” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean,” Castiel sighed. He sounded a little annoyed, but warm at the same time, which was his usual intonation when he was trying to explain things to the older Winchester. “Perhaps, Sam is right. I don’t trust Lucifer, but I can confirm he is weakened. His current vessel contains him well, so he doesn’t need Sam in this manner.”

“Once again, Cas. Lucifer. Considerate. Does that sound right to you?” Dean insisted.

“Maybe, his need in Sam as an individual outweighs his need for a stronger vessel,” Castiel proposed making Sam want to hit his head against the table, as he understood no-one was going to even attempt listening to him.

“So what about Sam’s strange behaviour?” Mary asked, but the angel only shook his head moving away from Sam and towards the opposite side of the table to stand beside Dean.

Sam almost laughed, because it looked a little too protective even for Castiel’s standards.

“They are like on the same wavelength,” came another voice and Sam saw Jack poking his head out of the corridor. “I’m sorry, I know you asked me to stay in my room for a while,” he added looking down to the floor. “But I thought I could be useful.”

“Same wavelength?” Dean turned to the nephilim.

“Yes,” Jack nodded stepping into the hall. “Lucifer’s grace and Sam’s soul. They resonated with each other back in the forest. It is much quieter now. I think the resonation is fading. I think a day or two and it will return to normal.”

“Oh hey, at least one good news,” Dean inhaled rubbing his face. “Speaking of which, what are we going to do with Satan in our basement?”

Sam wanted to ask Dean to let Lucifer go, but he knew it well, Dean wasn’t going to agree, no matter what reasons Sam would provide him with. They were going to argue until yelling at each other, and the conversation will go nowhere. And everyone else in the room were going to back his brother up. Sam couldn’t blame them. To tell the truth, if he hadn’t spent the last two days with Lucifer, if he hadn't been in the archangel’s head, he would’ve been on Dean’s side too.

“Just... don’t harm him,” Sam pleaded. “Please.”


	5. Chapter 5

The room he was bound in was small and reeked of decay. Not because it was humid and moldy, but because every creature that has ever been held in here left a horrible mark on the place. Werewolf hair smelt of wet dog, demon blood that was impossible to wash from the floor reeked of sulfur, skin particles of some other creature Lucifer didn’t care about was adding an odor of a swamp into the mix.

Lucifer hated it. He hated to be tied and locked up again and wished he could break the chains and inflict immense pain on the people who made him go through it. Unfortunately, as long as Jack was so attached to the Winchesters, Lucifer was not going to harm them. One didn’t go through Heaven and Hell and escaped the Cage twice by being irrational and rushing into things.

Then again, the archangel thought, he was kidding himself. A few years ago he’d almost killed Sam without second thought. Now he imagined doing it, and something inside him was twisting in the most unpleasant manner. To tell the truth, he couldn’t imagine hurting Sam in any way, so killing Dean was also out of the question.

Of course, Lucifer waited for his true vessel ever since his first imprisonment in the Cage. He was drawn to Sam, the same way Sam was drawn to him. Never in his existence, however, he’d imagined that attraction could take such a strange turn.

He thought it made him softer somehow, weaker. It made him wish he could go to his old self, the one whose every action and emotion was twisted by dark, cold self-interest. The one who almost forgot how to care about anything else but retaliation.

The one who didn't know how intoxicating lust could be.

He tried tugging on the chains again, but they were strong, enochian sigils carved into the cold metal. The majority of his grace was missing still, but what he was left with was recharged after merging with Sam’s soul. His physical strength returned, his ability to control his wings too, yet those chains were rendering all of it absolutely useless.

The Winchesters could've at least left him with a TV, because the boredom was the worst part.

The shelf that covered the entrance to the dungeon started to move out of the way, and Lucifer wondered who would come to see him in the middle of the night. No matter how bored he was, he wished it wasn’t the older Winchester brother, because dealing with his stupidity was a special kind of torture.

To his complete surprise and astonishment, it was Jack who appeared before him. “Hello?” he greeted the archangel unsure.

Something inside Lucifer came to life when he saw his son. A strange excitement rose in him. It wasn’t the first time they’ve met, but before that it was rushed, in the middle of a combat and Lucifer didn’t even have time to properly speak to him.

Now he was finally able to look at him, taking in the sight of the potent powers that the boy posessed. He could see his grace and his soul intertwined, fueling each-other similar to what Lucifer and Sam had managed to become once, but safer, without draining each-other. It was a fascinating thing to witness, yet it wasn’t the main reason Lucifer found himself so excited.

Jack was his family now, his creation. He was looking at his son and seeing something of himself, something that he made, brought to this world. There was a sense of responsibility for the nephilim in him, and it both felt taxing and freeing. He wasn’t alone anymore.

“Hello,” Lucifer smiled. “Jack. It is Jack right?”

The nephilim nodded and entered the dungeon, yet he stood on a respectable distance away, watching Lucifer with caution.

The archangel found himself smiling wider that he needed to. “Did you come to free me, by any chance?” he asked, nodding at own his cuffed hands.

“No,” Jack replied simply and fell silent again.

“I guess the Winchesters brainwashed you enough not to trust me,” Lucifer nodded. “But it’s ok, you’ll—”

“No,” Jack interrupted him. “Actually, Sam was the one who advised me to speak to you. The decision of what I think about you is mine to make.”

“Oh,” Lucifer blinked his hands falling to his knees. It was the second time the younger Winchester was taking his side and actively trying to help. Sam kept surprising him, leaving a trace of something soft and warm inside the archangel, and he had no idea what to make of it, or how to react. “Great, then I just need to impress you somehow.”

Jack tilted his head studying him, and Lucifer started to desperately think what he could do or say to improve his son’s attitude. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with anything.

He attempted to recollect his own interactions with his Father. The first thing he remembered was His beauty and His light. Then Father began explaining how he needed him and his brothers to battle the Darkness, taught him to hold a weapon.

He thought about this moment for a while, imagining himself reuniting with his son, conquering worlds with him, ruling the universe. But now, as he was looking at Jack, he realized trying to make him fight for Lucifer’s goals would be the same example of selfish, inattentive parenting.

And if Sam had anything to do with this realization, Lucifer would ignore the fact.

Jack was also not what he imagined. Light that shone inside him was pure and strong, and it reminded Lucifer what he was once, a long time ago.

“I’m sorry,” the archangel gave up. “I guess I’m not that impressive anymore.”

“You’re not what I imagined,” Jack replied echoing Lucifer’s own thoughts about his son.

“Oh?”

Jack finally made a step closer, looking over his father. “I thought you would be... darker.”

“I am dark!” Lucifer replied almost scandalized. “Ruler of Hell, The Fallen, The Dark Prince.”

“Are you trying to impress me with that?” Jack frowned. “I don’t like it.”

Lucifer took a deep breath. “Ok, ok, so I guess we’re a little different,” he shrugged. “But sometimes family members are different, and it’s ok, right?”

“Like Sam and Dean? The often argue.”

Lucifer hated the comparison, yet he couldn't deny there was a little bit of truth to it. “I guess. A little?” he shrugged. That earned him a tiny smile from Jack and the archangel’s grace buzzed with warmth. “So, tell me about yourself maybe?” he proposed trying to change his tactics.

Jack’s expression became thoughtful. “I like candy and helping people,” he announced proudly.

“Wow,” Lucifer blinked, clicking his tongue and staring at his son blankly. “That will take some work.”

Jack frowned. “You don’t like it,” he stated disappointed. “This... this was a bad idea, I’m sorry,” he added and started to turn around.

“Wait,” Lucifer called out, feeling suddenly panicked. He didn’t expect their first meeting to go smooth, wasn’t really hoping Jack would immediately choose his side. But he didn’t expect it to be such a disaster either. “I have no idea what I’m doing here,” he confessed after his son’s attentions was back at him.

“What do you want to do here?” Jack asked.

Lucifer opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m unsure how to explain this with words. Here,” he proposed allowing his wings to unfurl from behind his back and reached out to his son, hoping he would understand.

And to his relief, Jack did. He stepped closer to Lucifer, his own wings unfolding. They were large, the same color as Lucifer’s own and so beautiful the archangel watched them in awe. Carefully, slowly he reached out, placing his wings over his father’s.

A sudden rush of joy spread throughout the archangel, and he felt their graces connect, interact on such a level a human couldn’t even begin to understand.

Jack gasped at the sensation and smiled. “Oh,” he exclaimed, as they wings brushed against each-other.

“I’m really glad to meet you,” Lucifer finally managed a full coherent and honest sentence. He didn’t even remember the last time he was able to speak his mind without covering his feelings with sarcasm. It was difficult to push past the ages long habit, but it was worth it.

Then, to his great surprise, Lucifer realized Jack was not the first person he opened up like that. Just a day ago, the archangel was able to tell the younger Winchester things he’d never told to anyone and had never planned to. WIth a silent groan of exasperation, he understood his infatuation with Sam ran much deeper that he originally thought.

***

Lucifer wanted to stand up from the chair and kick it in rage, because of how tired he was of being locked in. That would not have been productive, so he concentrating on breathing instead.

Lucifer was breathing. It was a reflex function of the human vessel, happening without cognitive thought, even if an archangel’s grace was enough to fully sustain the body. Yet, in the last several days, with his grace diminished, Lucifer noticed he couldn’t function without it. It was a strange thing to note, but he had plenty of time for self-observations.

Something interrupted his review of the nature of human reflexes — a thought that he needed to be unchained and let free. It was such an old one it’d been already integrated into his brain by now, yet it was different, as it wasn’t his.

His eyes moved to the removable section of the wall, and he caught the first sound of the approaching footsteps.

“This is shit idea,” Lucifer could hear Dean speaking from the other side.

“But it’s the only one we got so far,” Sam was replying, and Lucifer got a sense of complete disagreement. In fact, the archangel knew the younger Winchester though it was a great idea. Not because of the content of it, but because Lucifer could help with it.

The wall moved away and four people appeared in the dungeon, the three Winchesters and Castiel. Lucifer moved his gaze behind them hoping to see his son again, but he wasn’t there.

“Good morning losers,” the archangel greeted them with a grin.

“You’re the one tied up, and you call us losers?” Dean pointed out.

“This but a temporary condition,” Lucifer replied and Sam agreed with him.

That was really weird, because Lucifer had no idea how he knew whether or not Sam was agreeing with him. He tried not to betray his confusion, so he turned his attention elsewhere. “Ah, Mary, long time no see,” he smiled turning to their mother. “I saved you a few times, you remember? And this is how you repay me?” he asked raising his hands to display the shackles.

Mary rolled her eyes and scoffed, and Lucifer realized Dean had taken a lot after her. Then he felt some sort of eagerness coming from the younger Winchester’s side and frowned.

“So, we have an idea how to deal with Michael,” Sam announced.

“I’m glad you included me into the discussion,” Lucifer retorted sarcastically. “Oh! Am I a part of the plan too?”

 _“Why do you have to be so difficult,”_ came a response from Sam.

The archangel almost replied that he had every right to be difficult after they left him here, but he stopped himself just in time, realizing Sam didn’t say anything out loud. He almost burst out laughing as he understood he could read the younger hunter’s mind. He surely could find a way to use this discovery to his advantage.

“See, that why I said it was a shit idea,” Dean replied.

“I hate it myself, but I must agree with Sam,” Mary chimed in.

“Great,” Dean nodded. “And you? Are you also against me?” he turned to Castiel who stood beside him, his human body tense and grace humming in warning, as if he was ready for a leap in case Lucifer would decide to attack the human. No-one else could see it, but Castiel’s tattered wings were also out, one inserted between Dean and the archangel.

“Michael is leaving a trail of bodies in search for a new vessel as we speak. We must act before he is able to find one,” Castiel replied.

“Ok, now you’re intriguing me,” Lucifer smiled. “Come on, lay it out, don’t be shy.”

“We want to lock Michael into the Cage, but we need the spell,” Sam said. “You were the last person in the proximity with the Book of the Damned.”

Lucifer looked Sam up and down. “That _is_ a shit idea,” he said, finding himself unable to even joke on the subject.

There was surprise on Sam’s face and confusion coming from his mind.

“See! Someone agrees with me!” Dean exclaimed, then frowned. “Wait, why are you agreeing with me?”

Lucifer clenched his teeth, not wanting to really explain his reasoning. He didn't want to admit, that the first thought that crossed his mind was about the other Michael still trapped in the Cage. _His_ Michael. No matter how messed up his brother was, if anyone in this or the other world was allowed to hurt him, it was Lucifer. “The Cage is cracked, its defences are down. If I managed to escape, sure thing he can. Then what? We need to crack the universe again, open another portal, push him back to his dead rock of a world.”

“The first time was an accident,” Castiel pointed out, “Jack is not capable of repeating it yet.”

“Yes!” Lucifer wanted to spread his hands, but the chains weren’t allowing much movement. “He can’t do it _yet_. Let me train him, let me teach him how to control his powers.”

“This is out of the question,” Dean said immediately. “You aren’t getting anywhere close to Jack.”

Lucifer groaned, wishing he had a wall or a table to kick his head against. Without an option he simply hid his face into the palms of his hands. He needed time to think about it, and he needed to get out of this dungeon. “Fine!” he exhaled. “You wanna send him to a graybar hotel. And you need the spell from the Book of the Damned. I might know where it is, but you see, my angelic memories are a little fuzzy at the moment, and I was wondering if those,” he displayed the shackles on his wrists again, “have something to do with it.”

“No!” Dean replied.

“Dean!” Sam responded almost immediately. “Please. I know it’s sounds strange coming from me, but I don’t think he’ll do something stupid.”

“And what about you doing something stupid?”

“What are you even referring to?”

The Winchester brothers were at each other’s throats, their intonations turning hostile. It was a music for Lucifer’s ears and he relaxed back into his chair to enjoy the show.

“Ok, that’s enough,” Mary interfered to the archangel’s disappointment. “I think I know a spell that could help us compromise.”

***

As a side note, Lucifer hated the idea. Every last bit of him wanted to smite Mary as she was scribing symbols on a thin metal collar that was going to end up on Lucifer’s neck. Granted, it wasn’t the giant shackle-looking disaster that he was wearing currently. With a correct jacket, it could even look like a fashion accessory, but it wasn’t the point.

“There will be a command word wich will paralyze the wearer, ” Mary was explaining.

“Mmm, at least my slaver is pretty this time,” Lucifer winked at her, which earned him a stern look from the entire Winchester family.

There was a ping of something else completely different from Sam, and suddenly it made Lucifer very excited. Surely, he wasn’t going to manipulate him as he did with Dagon and Rowena, he doubted he even wanted to, but he was going to explore this new connection between them to the fullest.

Castiel carefully walked closer to the archangel and unlocked the chains holding him by the neck, freeing space for a new trinket that Mary was now able to slap onto it.

“Sit, boy!” Dean grinned sheepishly, and Lucifer gave himself a satisfaction of imagining punching a hole in the hunter’s chest and reaping his heart out. It would be warm and still beating in his hand. “Ok, and what would prevent him from killing you?” Dean asked then more seriously.

“I imagine me stabbing him would prevent it,” Mary replied. “Also, killing us would deprive him of any chances of getting rid of the colar. Some of our family’s blood needs to be willingly placed on the surface of it.”

“And you all are sure he’s not simply pretending being powerless?” Dean inquired turning to look at Lucifer again.

“Yes,” Sam, Mary and Castiel replied completely simultaneously.

“I was in the adjacent room and saw with my own eyes Michael removing his grace,” Mary explained finishing up locking the collar in place, after which she moved away to admire her handywork.

Finally, Lucifer heard the click of the key Castiel turned, and the shackles on his wrists fell down to the floor. Immediately, he felt the rush of his powers, what was left of them, returning and sighed in relief. “Mmm, much better,” he announced. “So, who’s up for some popcorn and the latest episode of Game of Thrones?”

***

As promised, Lucifer relied a location of one of his crypts where he hid the book. Turned out, it was much closer than they thought. “Why do you think something supernatural always happens there?” the archangel shrugged.

Lucifer proposed to fly and grab the book, but Dean was against it, not willing to let the archangel go anywhere out of their sight. That was why Dean asked Sheriff Jody to locate old plans for the Sioux Falls center, to confirm that Lucifer’s location checked out, and he wasn’t leading them into a trap. The archangel, meanwhile, was roaming about the bunker under Sam’s supervision.

“You look horrible, by the way,” he commented as he was digging through the storage room in attempt to find something useful against Michael.

Sam sat on a working bench watching him, pondering if the archangel was really doing what he said, or rummaging through rare magical items out of personal curiosity. “Yeah, I’ll probably go to sleep some more soon,” he yawned. He’d been sleeping a lot ever since their fight with Michael in the forest, feeling constantly exhausted.

“You know, sleeping is really a wrong way of going about it,” Lucifer chuckled pulling out a new box and opening it with an expression of a child going through Christmas gifts.

“If you’re trying to hit on me again, this is the worst possible timing,” Sam sighed. “I’m way too tired to even reflect if with jokes, so I’m gonna to lamely ignore it.”

To tell the truth, Sam was really worried to stay alone with the archangel, afraid whatever force dragged him into the dungeon and onto Lucifer’s lap last morning, was going to further mess with his head. Yet, even while he still felt incomplete on the inside, craving for Lucifer’s presence, as soon as they were in the same room, the feeling was disappearing. He was sure his mind was clear, his behaviour wasn’t affected by anything.

Lucifer looked up at him, a knowing smirk on his face. “Sure, sure,” he nodded. “Just tell me what is the good timing and I’m gonna be all over you.” Than his expression became serious. “Your soul was drained severely, sleeping will not help to fix it.”

“Huh?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean drained?”

Lucifer looked him up and down, frowning. “I’m guessing Castiel didn’t attempt to check,” he nodded. “And yes, where do you think all that power came from?”

Sam rubbed his face. “But you say it’s fixable?”

“It will recharge with time,” Lucifer confirmed. “Just will take a lot of it if you continue to do nothing. Go read a novel, or watch a movie you haven't seen before. Do something you’ve never done.” He grinned again. “Kissing a new person would be the best remedy.”

Sam felt heat rising to his cheeks again, same way it did when Lucifer complimented his eyes. It made absolutely no sense why he was reacting to the archangel’s flirting, so he did his best to brush it off. Instead, he leant against the metal cabinet adjacent to the working bench, pressing one of his cheeks to its cool metal surface.

He was sure he did a good job of it too, yet Lucifer beamed at him for a moment before his attention turned towards the box again. “You do know how many really interesting artifacts you keep in this room, just lying around unused.”

“Most of the time, we don’t know what they are,” Sam shrugged. He really wanted to do thought them, but there were so many, that even with the carefully kept catalogues, it was going to take months. “All of the cursed objects are in safe boxes, so...”

Sam watched Lucifer for a while, strangely transfixed with his movements. “What happened to your wings, by the way?”

Lucifer glanced at him grinning, before proceeding to unfurl his wings. This time, however, they not only went through his clothes, but though every solid object in the room. “A fair warning, I need to undress if you want to touch them.”

The hunter suppressed a shiver as he imagined running his fingers through the feathers again. Yet, after finding out Lucifer wanted to sleep with him, the idea of finding himself in the same room with the half-naked archangel wasn’t appealing.

“You like them,” Lucifer smirked.

“It’s not weird, no?”

A chuckle came from the archangel. “Only if you want to make it weird.”

They fell silent again. Lucifer continued to pull different trinkets, pocketing some of them right in front of Sam’s eyes, which the hunter chose to ignore. He watched his wings instead, feeling completely mesmerized.

There was something else Sam wanted to ask. The question was on the tip of his tongue, and it was another reason he volunteered to watch Lucifer instead of going to sleep. Or it was one of the reasons.  “Say, I noticed something,” he started. “When we talked about sending Michael into the cage...”

Lucifer glanced in his direction, frowning. “Do you want me to repeat myself, tell it’s a crappy idea?”

“I know,” Sam nodded and this time, the archangel turned to look at him completely, dropping whatever he was holding onto the floor and crossing his hands over his chest. “I’m sorry if I intrude, but I feel like you don't want to send him into the Cage because of the real Michael.”

Lucifer watched him closely, as if trying to decide something. “So? Are you willing to help me figure out how to teach Jack to open a portal instead?”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “But I thought that perhaps you could pull your brother out somehow first?”

“What rock hit you on your head, kid? Michael went completely insane, locked himself in his own head. And even if we can snap him out of it, killing me would the first thing he does. I’m sorry, but I kinda like being alive.”

Lucifer’s expression was a one of annoyance, or at least it was on the surface. Sam had learned it days ago how difficult it was for the archangel to fake emotions. There was hurt underneath the mask and Sam really wanted to make it better somehow. Especially after he’d learned how close the two brothers used to be. He opened his mouth to speak, but before even a sound escaped his lips, Lucifer raised his hand.

“Stop it,” he said looking Sam in the eyes. “Just... don’t.”

Sam took a deep breath and, against his own better judgment, pondered about pushing the topic. Yet he heard a sound of approaching footsteps and was forced to remain silent.

“Well, it checked out,” Dean announced as he entered the storage room. “Jody did find the place. Come on, we need to go.”

“Great!” Lucifer nodded cheerfully. “When do we leave?”

“Whoa there!” the older hunter raised his hand gesturing the archangel to slow down. “Why do you think we’ll take you with us?”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes before giving Dean a shrug. “Oh, dunno, I guess you’ll just have to disarm the security on your own. But hey, you can alway send your little sheriff ahead, she is expendable after all.”

***

Five hours in the car with Lucifer and Dean were painful. After less than half an hour into the trip, the archangel started to ask how long it was going to take. Then he complained how slow and horrible human transportation was. Every ten minutes after that, he was asking whether or not they changed their minds about letting him fly there.

Dean wasn’t making it any easier either, calling Lucifer names and making promises of killing the archangel by the end of the day. It was not even a surprise that between that and Sam’s drained soul, he developed a huge case of a headache by the time they finally arrived to Sioux Falls.

It the middle of the day when they reached the spot Jody was meeting them. Situated in the very center of the city, it was an old but well preserved building of a museum. There was a giant courtyard next to it, a large open space with neatly cut grass and some hedges planted around pathways leading to the entrance.  Above them, a clock tower was rising higher that any building in the area, all of which were two or tree stories high and looked practically identical and, if not for the signs, it was difficult to tell what they were.

It was snowing lightly, and the street itself was more busy than usual due to slower traffic. Still, the parking lot next to the museum was half empty, and they were easily able to spot a familiar Sheriff car. Grinning in excitement, Dean pulled into a spot next to it.

Jody was waiting for them outside of her vehicle and smiled the moment she saw Sam and Dean. “It’s good to see you,” she greeted before tugging them into a tight embrace. Then her eyes stopped at the third person exiting the Impala, her expression changing into a questioning one. Then her eyes widened in fear, “Is that...?”

“Yes, hi, I’m Lucifer. No need to bow or anything,” the archangel waved his hand dismissively.

Raising an eyebrow, Jody looked for an explanation from Sam and Dean, her hand slowly reaching for her gun.

Sam shook his head. “Umm, it’s... it’s a long story,” he said, surprised how good of a facial memory she had, recognizing the archangel after seeing him only once on a blurry black and white photo.

Jody continued to send dubious glances towards the archangel, but her hand moved away from the holster on her belt. Carefully, to keep Lucifer in her peripheral vision, she turned to Dean. “I’m unsure how much you need whatever it is under this building, but at the moment I have no ongoing investigations I can use as an excuse,” she said.

“So, we’ll go check out the layout and return during the night?” Dean proposed.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Lucifer groaned. “Is there any way you could be even less efficient?” With that the archangel sprawled his enormous wings, and the next moment he was out of the sight.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean called out, before opening his mouth again, the first syllable of a paralyzing command word escaping his lips.

“No, wait,” Sam stopped him. “Come on, give him a chance.”

Dean gritted his teeth, but nodded. Only several seconds after that Lucifer appeared next to them again, making Jody almost jump from surprise. His wings were still out, spread full length above him. Yet, what made it weird, no-one else seemed to even glance in their direction, and Sam realized he was the only one who could see them.

In his hands the archangel was holding several old looking books, none of which Sam recognized as the Book of the Damned. His expression was pensive. “We have a situation,” he announced.

***

The museum was spacious and the wing which lead to the basement was closed for the visitors and practically unused. Its tall ceilings were painted yellow and white and covered in designs influenced by baroco style. The floors here were made of wooden parquet, polished so much their surface turned reflective. It made the blood covering them to stand out even more.

“And you sure you didn’t see anything else? Anyone leaving, perhaps?” Sam asked the genitor who found the bodies.

She was a tiny woman, barely higher than five feet, dressed in dark blue uniform. She looked really shaken, but she was doing her best to describe the events to the best of her abilities. “No, it was empty and there was no-one around,” she shook her head wiping a tear from her cheek.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded giving her a sympathetic smile. Reaching for his wallet he pulled out a business card. “Feel free to call if you remember anything else,” he said handing the card to the witness. Then he turned around and approached his brother and the archangel.

Lucifer sat crouched before one of the bodies examining it. Dean stood above him, watching him closely as if he was afraid the archangel could animate the corpses and send them to finish off the rest of the museum stuff.

None of them expected to pretend to be FBI agents, so they didn’t have an opportunity to change, trying to be on the scene before the police arrived. Still, if only for a second, Sam found himself wondering what Lucifer would look like if cleaned up, his stubble shaved, his messy blond hair combed, jeans and a t-shirt replaced with a suit. He dismissed the image as soon as it appeared in his mind, trying to focus on the real issue instead.

“She found them at one twenty five,” Sam said closing the notebook in which he’d been pretending to write as he spoke to the witness. “Ten minutes before we arrived.”

The news seemed to actually upset Dean. Sam suspected his brother was waiting for an excuse to get rid of the archangel. He was at Lucifer’s throat from the start, believing it was him who killed the museum guards. The two almost made a scene in front of the a whole lot of people, barely managing to remain undercover.

Lucifer gave Dean a challenging glance, then turned to the body again. “Someone really knew what they were doing, kinda admiring the job,” he said. “Although, this was done by a human.”

Two out of four guards were shot in the head, while the third one had a bullet right through his heart. The last guard had his throat slit open, and their bodies were left in front of the staircase leading to the basement, where the secret entrance to one of Lucifer’s crypts was situated. Or it was supposed to be secret at some point, but now there was a giant gaping hole in the wall leading further underground. A smell of gunpowder was in the air. Whoever did it, used precision explosives to do it without damaging the building.

After a relatively short corridor, the passageway from the basement led to an open underground chain of rooms, which was relatively smaller than the crypt that held the angel tablet. It was surrounded by very potent magical runes that Sam suspected used to be the protection. All of them were disabled, in a way which led Sam to believe it was done by someone who knew what they were doing.

The crypt itself was dry and dark, containing mostly books. All of them were intact, except for one — the one they happened to need the most. Whoever came here, was not only a trained assassin, but an expert in supernatural too, and they obviously knew what they needed.

“Anything else useful in here?” Dean asked flashing a light around the bookshelves, which looked pristine, barely even touched by dust.

“Whatever interesting books there were, I already pulled out,” Lucifer shrugged. “Although, I suppose a lot of them are first edition, so they could be worth something for humans.”

The archangel was still speaking when Dean reached out for a shelf and picked a random book before hiding it under his jacket. “What?” he shrugged shamelessly. “Maybe we’ll be able to sell it on Ebay?”

Sam was upset to leave this place behind, wishing to dig through the collection, wondering what kind of amazing lore was gathered in here. Unfortunately, he couldn't pretend they needed to confiscate all those books for an official FBI investigation. Pretty soon, he was sure, he was going to see news about this important discovery.

By the time they returned upstairs, the local police department was already at work, surrounding the area with yellow tapes. An officer with a sergeant insignia raised his head and was ready to start walking in their direction. He most likely had an intention to remove them from the scene, as they looked completely out place here.

Jody placed her hand on the officer’s shoulder, telling him something Sam couldn’t hear. Then she went to meet them herself.

“I got an access to the video surveillance,” she said. “I understand the suspect was a human, so it’s more my department. Do you still want to look at it?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Sam nodded, yet something was already telling him who they were dealing with.

The security office was situating back on the first floor. It was a tiny room with a majority of it occupied by a table and monitors. There were no guards inside, because everyone who worked that day went to stop the intruder.

“If you allow me,” Sam said and sat down before the screens. The login on the computer was protected with a password, but a few simple manipulations letter, and he accessed the footage through the command screen instead.

After scrolling to the correct time, he saw a figure dressed in black. His face was covered by a ski mask, but Sam really didn’t need to see his face.

“Ketch,” Dean confirmed his suspicions.

***

The next several hours, they spent hacking into the road cameras, but the British Men of Letters fugitive knew how to stay off the radar. Sam was pretty sure he was going to surface sooner or later, but for now Ketch was simply too cautious.

What made it worse, was that Sam still felt completely exhausted. He felt better than before they left the bunker, especially after the painkillers for his headache kicked in, but he was ready to pass out even if it wasn’t yet seven in the evening.

On top of that, Dean simply refused to stay at a motel, insisting they needed to push home. He didn’t explain his reasoning, but Sam suspected his brother didn’t want to share a room with Lucifer, either out of fear or out of principle. Neither he wanted to be teleported home, or allow the archangel out of his sight. Sam hated to be stuck in the car for another five hours, but he had no strength to argue with his brother.

They managed to reach the bunker before two in the morning and by that time Sam cared about nothing more but reaching his bed and falling asleep.

There was a surprise waiting for him in his room, however. A neat stack of books was arranged on his bed, all looking extremely old, but in good condition.

He walked towards them, a little concerned at first about their origin. Then he remembered seeing them in Lucifer’s hands as the archangel salvaged the books from the crypt. How did he manage to sneak them into the room before the younger WInchester returned, Sam had no idea.

“I thought you might want them,” Sam heard Lucifer’s voice behind his back.

He picked the first book from the pile. It was thick and bound in dark leather with yellow parchment pages. The book was handwritten half in English, half in Enochian. From what Sam could tell, it was a rulebook for learning the angelic language. The were two signatures on the front binder, John Dee and Edward Kelley and Sam stared at it in complete shock.

The two other books were pure white. At first Sam thought their covers was made of leather too, but as he moved his finger against the snow white surface, he realized he had no idea what it was made of. Perhaps, it was some sort of tree bark that he hadn’t seen before. The pages inside were also pure white, even if the book seemed very old, from the time people had no way of bleaching paper to get this color. Sam could also swear the paged were glowing faintly.

All of the lettering in the book were gold and silver, looking very neat. It was written in Enochian, so Sam couldn’t understand it. There were pictures in it too, drawings of different... wings, shapes, maps.

Sam’s eyes snapped at the archangel. “Is that...” he gasped in surprise.

“The biggest collection of Enochian lore,” Lucifer confirmed with a huge grin. “I remember you wondered about it.”

“And you’ll just allow me to read them?” Sam surprised, unable to believe, already imagining how much he could learn from this opportunity.

“Nah,” Lucifer waved his hand. “They are yours. It’s a gift.”

“What?” Sam’s eyes went wide as he looked at the books. “Are you sure?”

The archangel rolled his eyes walking further into the room to stand closer to Sam. “I’ve stolen a lot items from Heaven before I was kicked out. Both out of spite, and because I thought one day they might be useful, but I don’t really need them,” he grinned. “Just don’t tell the angels about it. They’ll try to get them back.”

“I have no idea what to say,” Sam shook his head. “Thank you so much.”

Lucifer wiggled his eyebrows. “How about a thank you kiss?” he asked cheerfully pouting his lips and poking at them with his index finger.

Sam stared at him, his good mood starting to dwindle. “I should've known you’d ask for something like that in return,” he sighed.

“I’m not asking you to kiss me for the books,” Lucifer replied rolling his eyes. “They are a gift, they are yours. But if you want to express your gratitude, I wouldn’t mind it,” he added walking now to stand right in front of the younger Winchester, situating himself somewhere between his personal and intimate space.

“Obviously,” Sam nodded, unable to hold himself from glancing down ot the archangel’s lips. “Why are you continue doing it even while I told you there was no chance?” he asked.

“You told me that, sure,” the archangel nodded. “You’ve never asked me to stop trying though. Admit it, you are attracted to me. You’ve been attracted to me even before the Cage. Before we even met.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, staring at Lucifer in surprise. “You’re so full of yourself, it’s actually funny.”

“Oh, you think. Then go ahead, ask me to stop,” he smiled.

“You won’t listen.”

“I will. I swear. Just ask me,” he said seriously.

Sam took a deep breath feeling rather triumphant he could finally put a stop to all this unwanted flirting. He opened his mouth with a complete intent to put an end to it, but no sound escaped him. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he imagined pushing Lucifer away, and he could do nothing but stare at the archangel in shock. He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, just looking at each other, but finally Sam was able to snap out of it.

“Get out,” he said as calmly as he could his hand raising to point at the door. “Just... go away. Please.”

Lucifer’s smirk grew wider. “As you wish,” he murmured sounding way to pleased with himself, before turning in the direction of the door and exiting the room.

As the door closed behind him, Sam was left to stand there alone, his eyes wide in shock. He dropped onto his bed, one of his hands still clutching into the last book he picked from the pile, while the other came to cover his mouth. He stared at the empty spot where Lucifer stood only recently, wondering what he was going to do with this completely unexpected revelation.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning came with a headache. Sam tried to hide his head under the pillow and continue sleeping, but he wasn’t able to drift back into slumber for a second time. He wondered if he was drinking the night before, but he couldn’t recollect any alcohol, plus his mouth didn't feel like something dead took residence in it.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and removed the pillow from his face, staring into the fan on the ceiling of his room. After several minutes, he turned to his side to look at the clock on the nightstand. Instead, his eyes fell onto the three books that Lucifer had given him the night before. Slowly but surely, the events of the previous night started to catch up with him, making him want to find a random sinkhole somewhere on his own bed and fall though it, never to resurface again.

What made it worse, there was still a part of him that ached every time the archangel wasn’t around. It was supposed to get less and less potent with each passing day as the traces of Lucifer’s possession were fading away. Yet, it wasn’t becoming any weaker, and Sam started to wonder if it was their merging to blame, or his own feelings.

There was no reason to stay in bed, so Sam rubbed his face and got up. He did a quick job of changing into the shirt and jeans he wore yesterday, feeling he needed a shower before he could put on clean clothes. But even before that, he needed a cup of coffee and, maybe, a piece of toast.

Determined to find these important things to his proper functioning, Sam left his room, shuffling sleepily towards the kitchen. Before he could reach it, however, as he was passing the main hall, Sam was ambushed by his brother.

“Sammy, life or death situation, answer this quickly,” Dean started to speak fast, his eyes bulged a little, which made the younger Winchester believe the matter was dire. “Have you heard of any evil spells that might require eggs, flour, baking soda?”

Sam’s brain attempted to come up with an answer, but it was too early in the morning. “Baking soda?” he asked, wanting to make sure he really heard what he thought he did.

“Yes!” Dean rolled his eyes. Then, before Sam could complain, he grabbed his younger brother by the shoulder and pulled him towards the kitchen, gesturing him to peek inside.

According to how Dean behaved, Sam almost expected to see a horrible monster who wished to bring death and destruction to everything living. He couldn’t say his expectation was completely off, because there, in the middle of the kitchen, stood Lucifer. He was dressed way too casual, in a white tank top and a pair of sweatpants that Sam was sure was stolen from his drawer.

There was a bowl and a whisk in his hands.

Next to him Castiel was leaning over the kitchen counter, reading something on his phone, looking as stiff and overdressed as his usual self, “I don’t understand,” the angel was saying, “this website says we should add three eggs, but this one says we only need two.”

Behind the two Sam saw their mother, hovering over a pan and looking even more lost than Castiel. “Guys, guys,” she called. “I think it’s frizzling too much. Should I reduce the fire, or turn them over, or what?”

“Oh come on, Mary!” Lucifer turned to her, continuing to whisk the contents of the bowl. The only way he would’ve looked more ridiculous was if he wore an apron. “You’re a mother! Why haven't you learned stuff like that?!”

“Excuse me?!” Mary turned to him her intonation scandalized. “You just asked Castiel how to break eggs ten minutes ago, and you complain about me not being able to cook?”

“Oh, pardon me for not to even needing to eat! Just trying my best to be a good father for Jack,” he smirked nodding at the last person in the kitchen, who sat at the counter on a stool. The nephilim wasn't participating in the cookout, but he was watching the events unfolding with curiosity, a small smile on his face.

The frizzling over Mary’s pan intensified and a thick smell of something burning filled the kitchen, which prompted the panicked looking Castiel to run towards the stove and move the pan off the burner.

Sam felt Dean taping him on the shoulder and when he turned to look at him, he saw his brother mouthing a silent ‘what the hell?’ Apparently, nothing they’ve done in their life could’ve prepared them to the reality of an Angel of the Lord, the Devil himself and their mom trying to scrap together a breakfast in their kitchen.

“Well, they look like they are getting along well,” Sam whispered in dumbfounded astonishment.

“Is that a good thing?” Dean asked.

Sam pondered about it, wondering if Lucifer could become a permanent fixture in the bunker, or at least as permanent as Castiel was. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, or if he was ready to face—

His thoughts were interrupted by the archangel half-turning and Sam’s gaze sliding down the plane of his back to his rear, which wasn’t half as bad of a sight as Sam though. In fact, be he interested in men, he would’ve probably found Lucifer’s human vessel attractive. No, Sam corrected himself, Lucifer himself was attractive, as a lot of it was coming from the archangel’s own mannerism.

Yes, he looked like a guy who was at least fifteen years older than Sam, but he was in a really good shape, broad shouldered, muscular. Slightly chubby around the waist, but somehow, it was only adding to the charm. Plus, if he continued to inhabit this vessel, it wasn’t like he was going to age any further.

Lucifer chose that moment to look Sam straight in the eyes and winked, which meant he knew the hunter was watching him for some time.

“I need coffee,” the younger Winchester muttered and stepped into the kitchen, trying his best to stop his face from burning. He was way too old to question his sexuality, which meant it was a matter of his sanity.

***

“It’s like...” Mary whispered to him about half an hour later as they sat in the library, finishing their breakfast, which turned surprisingly decent, considering Castiel was the only person with prior cooking experience.

“I know how dangerous he can be, but...”

“But he can lure you into a sense of complete safety with the way he presents himself,” Sam helped her formulate the thought, as he sent another piece of a pancake into his mouth and washed it down with a sip of coffee.

He really tried not to think about those pancakes being made by Lucifer. It was a difficult task, considering the archangel had whispered how he made a bunch specifically for Sam into the hunter’s ear as he handed him the plate.

On the opposite side of the room Castiel, Lucifer and Jack were conversing about something quietly. At some point the archangel took charge of the conversation, starting to explain something, gesticulating vividly with his hands, pointing at something in random books. While Jack listened to him carefully, nodding from time to time and asking questions, Castiel’s expression turned into something that told Sam he didn’t want to be there.

“Yes,” Sam’s mother agreed. “But is it a false safety? He made me convulse in pain once with a single snap of his finger. But then again, I did beat him up first. And locked him into the parallel universe. He lost his grace and almost lost his son because of me.”

“Of course it’s false!” Dean replied. His voice sounded a little muffled as he didn’t finish chewing before speaking.

The older Winchester brother had been pretending to be disinterested, but in a fight between his principles and his love for food high in sugar, the former emerged victorious. Sitting next to Mary and Sam he was still pretending to be vigilant while stuffing his mouth.

Sam didn’t agree with him. There was no game, only pain and betrayal and an endless list of trust issues, but he wasn’t sure how to explain it to his family without betraying his own emotions. He barely started to accept his attraction to the archangel, there was no way he could talk about it to somebody else, even a close person. “He’s lost, that what I think.”

“So, what we are going to do?” Mary asked.

Sam fully expected Dean to jump in on the question, but his brother remained silent. It wasn’t a good thing, considering it meant he had something in mind that he didn’t want to share.

“I don’t know,” the younger hunter answered instead.

It would’ve been nice to redeem Lucifer, but what then? Was he going to return to Heaven? Start hunting with them? If they were to continue to be in a close proximity with each other, Sam knew he was going to lose a fight with own sanity and end up in bed with him. Then again, if Sam was to ever experiment with a man, why not this man to be a person who had probably had more experience in sexual pleasure than Sam in living.

He doubted it was going to be something more than a night, maybe two, however. And then, it would be like opening a completely new can of worms. Sam was surprised, but he found out he liked to be around Lucifer, liked to converse with him. In the past several days, he realized the two of them had so much in common that sometimes it felt they knew each other their whole lives.

He was starting to become afraid to lose it.

“I wish we could really know what exactly is going on in his head,” Mary sighed.

“A psychologist's dream job,” Sam offered wondering about same thing.

***

Sam’s thoughts were starting to become a little annoying. They were buzzing around Lucifer’s head like if it was stuck in a beehive. Of course, after their interaction the previous night, their direction changed into something really amusing. But, by the end of the day, Lucifer wished to find a way to shut them down.

The archangel wished he could snap his fingers and teleport Sam into an uninhabited island for a month or two to cool down.

Not that he completely hated the younger Winchester’s thought process, there were a few bright ideas there and there, but in general it was just a mess. Yet, Lucifer couldn’t stop watching him from the corner of his eye, and every time Sam was too far out of the range from him, Lucifer was starting to miss the buzzing.

To distract himself from thinking too much about a single human, the archangel had spent most of the next day in the library. It wasn’t even close to what he’d lost recently, but he had to admit it was a somewhat fascinating place. He’d started to dig though it a few years back when he was pretending to be Castiel, but he’d never had an opportunity to go through even a fraction of the books stored here.

No matter how much it pained him, he wasn’t all-knowing, and some spells here were a true work of art. He wished to learn them, he wished spend a few years digging through these treasures. No matter how much he hated humanity, he couldn’t deny they were capable of creative ways of bending reality to their will.

Creativity. It was one of the thing that separated angels and humans.

Not that his kind was completely inept. They were capable of building, of repurposing things, and yet they became baffled by concepts that required a simple touch of imagination. The only time Lucifer himself had attempted to create something, that song for his older brother, it ended in a complete disaster. Even after his banishment from Heaven, when the corruption of the Mark allowed him to see things differently, he still struggled with it. The things he created came out either wrong, or as corrupt as he had been.

That was until Jack, of course, until he’d sacrificed a part of his grace to give life to his son.

Lucifer was in luck to be left alone. The Winchesters were slowly starting to let their guards down around him, relax. It meant he had at least a little bit of time for personal research. Quietly, the archangel moved towards the furthest corner of the room. There, from one of the shelves, he pulled out a completely unremarkable book. Or it was the cover of it that was unremarkable, but as he pulled it out and took the cover off, a white celestial tome ended up in his hands.

Gently, he moved his fingers over the white pages, memories of old times almost overwhelming him.

He lied to Sam. While lying in general was something very familiar to the fallen archangel, and it wasn’t the first occurrence of him lying to Sam, this time it was different. Lucifer could've told the truth to get into even better graces with the younger Winchester. He could’ve explained the books were not only important angelic artifacts, but that he kept them as a reminder of the time he’d lost, that he was giving away an important part of his past.

Lucifer decided he was really losing his grip with reality, and he still wasn’t sure what for.

Sighing, the archangel opened the book looking over various celestial rules and regulations and reasons behind them, until he found the section which talked about nephilim. He’d never read through this part. He barely even read through the entire book, as he thought he was never going to need it.

It wasn't entirely surprising, there was a basis to why angels were not allowed to reproduce with humans. The human souls they possessed were empowering their angelic grace, making them much stronger than the parent angel. Yet, they had little control over those powers. They were capable of learning, but human emotions were proven to make them... unstable at times. A feeling of sorrow, rage, regret too severe had a potential to make nephilim volatile.

Lucifer frowned, scratching his chin. There were easy ways of accomplishing it, but the price was unreasonably high. It meant, he needed to take a longer route, figure out how to train his son. No matter what the Winchesters thought, Jack needed that training, because even if they managed to send the second Michael into the Cage, it was only a temporary solution.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer heard a voice behind him, and when he turned around he saw his son.

“Finding a better way of trapping an archangel,” Lucifer lied hurrying to hide the book into the fake cover and place it back onto the shelf. “The parallel universe Michael is stronger than the brother I knew, and he had one of the angel tablets to back him up. We need him at a close range for several minutes to cast the spell.”

“And the holy oil won’t be enough?”

“Not even close,” Lucifer replied with a shake of his head. “Why are you here, by the way? I thought the WInchesters didn’t allow you to speak to me without supervision.”

“Dean is not looking,” Jack replied. “And Sam trusts you.”

“Hmm, does he now?” Lucifer smiled to himself, feeling really pleased with the events unfolding.

“Would you want any help?” Jack asked already starting to walk towards the shelves and pull random books.

Lucifer looked him up and down, pondering. “We have a bit of time, let’s do something more exciting instead?”

“Like?”

The archangel frowned at that, wondering what he could even propose. “Have you tried scrying before?”

Jack shook his head. “The walls of the bunker are protected. It’s impossible to scry in or out.”

“It is impossible if you use human rituals,” Lucifer beamed. “But you’re a son of an archangel, come here,” he called settling down onto the floor and beckoning Jack to join him.

Jack sat down beside him and allowed Lucifer to take his hands and place them on the archangel's forehead, watching his father curiously.

“Concentrate now,” Lucifer encouraged. His mind started to drift towards one particular place he wanted to show Jack. On the corner of his eyes, Lucifer saw the nephilim’s eyes starting to glow, and the images of the archangel’s memories became sharper.

The area they found themselves was large but lit dimly. They stood in a middle of a corridor leading into different enclosures made of rock and black metal, yet they weren’t inside a building of any sort. There was a resemblance of a sky above their heads, but it was red, cloudy, tinting everything around crimson. It also smelt of sulfur, which surprised Lucifer, because he didn’t expect Jack to be able to scry in such vivid details.

“Where are we?” Jack asked him looking around the place.

“Hell,” Lucifer replied. “Hound kennels to be precise.”

Each enclosure was large, each hound was given plenty of space to roam, yet they were separated from each-other as to not to start any fights. A few dogs were kept together, mostly bitches who could coexist more or less peacefully. Some screams were coming from a corner of a few enclosures, the dogs kept there were likely given human souls to play with.

As they walked past several hounds, Lucifer noted some of them were turning their heads to look at the intruders, which meant Jack’s abilities were even more developed than the archangel expected. Thankfully, none of the dogs seemed to mind being spied on.

“Why are you showing me this?” Jack asked.

They stopped at one of the kennels and saw a hound nursing several puppies. She raised her head to look at the visitors, her tail wagging slightly.

“Hellhounds,” Lucifer said. “Do you know it weren’t demons who created them? It was God. It was his plan, his design. And when He thought His creation was too vicious, He didn’t even think about taking responsibility, oh no. See, God is too prideful for it, so instead... instead He cast the hound out as if it was her fault. As if the she was to blame for being created the way she was.”

Lucifer moved closer to the dog, and she followed his movement with her eyes. Ears on her head flattened, her tail wagging harder against the stone floor.

“But there was nothing wrong with her. She was loyal and strong and even had soft sides. She just needed someone to accept her for what she was. Everyone needs it.”

“So, am I like a hellhound too?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to be accepted?”

Lucifer turned to him. “You are who you are, and first of all, you need to accept it yourself. Because you see,” his pointing finger landed onto Jack’s chest, “the greatness, the power, it is all here, in you. Not to accept it is to turn away from your origin. I just want you to see it, to understand it.”

Jack nodded. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say.” His gaze then landed on the litter of puppies. They were a vivid bunch, yelping and pushing each other away from the breasts. One of them laid separately, looking smaller than his peers and malnourished. “Why doesn’t he eat?” Jack asked pointing at the pup.

“Ah, not strong enough to go over the competition?” Lucifer shrugged. “There are usually pups like that in every litter. Often more than one.”

“What will happen to him?”

“He’ll die,” Lucifer replied. “It’s the natural selection.”

“I want to save him,” Jack said with determination.

“There’s nothing you can do, short of going to Hell for him,” the archangel shook his head. “And trust me on that, neither of us would want to be there at the moment. Besides, it’s only natural... the strong thrive, the weak perish.”

Jack didn’t listen to him. Instead, he walked towards the discarder puppy and reached out. Lucifer wanted to say it was useless, they couldn’t affect anything while scrying, only watch, but the next moment they were back in the library in the bunker.

The tiny hellhound puppy was in Jack’s hands.

“Great,” Lucifer nodded in astonishment, unable to believe what his son was able to pull off. He remembered what the angelic book told about nephilim, about how their power could multiply affected by emotions. Now he could see how much truth was to it.

Jack glanced at the dog, who now looked lost and confused, sniffing its new surroundings. “What should I feed it?” he asked immediately.

Lucifer rubbed his face, before leaning against the bookshelf behind him. What happened helped him to make some interesting observations about Jack’s powers, but he was a little bit frustrated his son got sidetracked too. “Anything any other dog would eat, actually,” he explained unenthusiastically. “But now you need to find him formula, cause he’s way too small for meat.”

“Then I should ask Castiel,” Jack nodded. He looked at the puppy again. “I’ll call him Dip.”

“Huh,” Lucifer tilted his head. “That’s a lame name for a hellhound. What about Bloodmaw, or Sharpfangs?”

“What’s wrong with Dip?” Jack frowned. “I’ve read something in a book once about Dip the black dog.”

“If you think so,” Lucifer shrugged. “Speaking of which,” he added glancing at his son. “You had no say in what your name would be. Have you ever thought about changing it?”

“Why would I change my name?” Jack asked sounding honestly surprised.

“Well, it’s just so... human. We can come up with something much better than that. Ikariel I was thinking.”

“Jack. My name is Jack,” the nephilim replied sharply. “My mother gave this name to me.”

“Oh come on. Caring about something like that would only hold you back.”

“I don’t understand,” Jack frowned. “You didn’t love her?”

Lucifer almost burst out laughing. “Love her? Why... why would I love her?”

“Because that’s where children come from? When two people love each-other—”

“Who filled your head with such nonsense?” Lucifer raising an eyebrow.

“Sam did. He explained me about love... and sex too.”

“Of course he did,” the archangel rolled his eyes. “No, I didn’t love her,” he chuckled rubbing the bridge of his nose between fingers, “She was a human after all, just a container of sorts.”

There was silence in the room and when he turned to look at Jack again, he realized that, perhaps, he did something very wrong. Jack stood up from the floor, still clenching the puppy in his arms. He was looking at the archangel with his eyes open wide, tears starting to gather in them.

Lucifer hurried to get up too and made a step towards him, but his son stepped away. “Oh, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, I swear I do. You’re different from her... from anyone else. You’re special, for—”

“Shut up,” Jack shook his head, tears finally starting to fall down his cheeks.

“Oh, come on!” Lucifer huffed unsure what he could do to fix this.

“You calling my mother a container? What do you even know about her? What colors were her favorite? What kind of food she liked? What movies she enjoyed to watch?”

“Why does it even matter? Not like you’ve met her, or anything.”

“She gave her life to bring me into this world!” Jack interjected sharpy, rising his voice. “What have you ever done? You know, all that time I tried to get to know you better. All these lectures about my origin, about accepting who I am, and for what? So I could use my powers better?” he weeped. “I do accept who I am, I’m as much human, as I am angel!” he blurted and spun around starting to walk away, leaving the archangel to stand in the middle of the room, with his mouth open.

Lucifer felt strange, felt devastated. He didn’t even think before speaking his mind, and now... now he was hurt and confused and had no idea what to do. Usually when someone was hurting him, he was hurting back, but now it was Jack. He wasn’t going to harm his own creation for making him feel bad.

No, it wasn’t Jack. Lucifer closed his eyes remembering Sam’s words about putting himself into someone else’s shoes, and when he was trying to imagine himself in Jack’s situation, he felt sicker to his stomach than ever before.

It was him who hurt both of them, and it wasn’t like he could punch himself for that.

***

Lucifer had no idea what moved him to go to Sam. He was angry and annoyed, and it was so easy to find someone else to blame.

“What the?..” Sam yelped as the archangel opened the door into his room, almost slamming the hunter with it. “What are you doing here?”

Lucifer didn’t want to answer, so he didn’t say a word. Instead, he walked past Sam and climbed onto his bed. He saw the hunter’s confusion, he could hear his frantic thoughts. Sam was wondering if Lucifer would start propositioning, sensed his anxiety about agreeing.

Lucifer wondered about it. Sexual release turned out to be an unexpected way of relaxation, and he could understand why humans craved it so much. It surely could take his mind off things.

“Umm, is there something wrong?” Sam asked and there was so much concern in his voice that Lucifer immediately realized he wouldn’t even attempt seducing him now. He couldn’t tell why, just something about it felt... wrong.

“Mmm, there’s a psycho evil archangel from the parallel dimension on the loose, someone stole a book containing the spell to lock him with my real brother, I’m wearing a collar that allows your entire family to control me and, oh, I think I just made my son hate me,” the archangel replied sarcastically.

The hunter blinked a few times. “What happened?” he made a step towards the bed, but stopped looking unsure.

Suddenly Lucifer wished him to make the final steps, to reach out, and he hated this feeling. “You know what?” he waved his hand getting up from the bed. “It’s all your fault,” he groaned trying to get past Sam and out of the room.

Sam grabbed him by the forearm, stopping him, and Lucifer wanted to smite him for that. “Let me go,” he warned.

“Only if you talk to me,” Sam shook his head. There was no fear in him, and for some reason it also annoyed Lucifer. He remembered the times the hunter was terrified of him, when he used to tremble in his presence. How did it change so much? Why did Lucifer allow it?

The archangel watched him closely. “What about? About how you filled his head with garbage?” he asked poking a finger into Sam’s chest, because it was all his fault. It were his ideas about good and kindness. His son’s desire to help people also came from him. If not for Sam, Lucifer and Jack would’ve... the archangel had no idea what the two of them would've done by now.

And that was what scared him the most. The uncertainty. Never in his life he lacked a plan, a course of actions, a goal to strive for.

“No, I didn’t,” Sam replied, pushing the finger away. It was again a gesture of boldness Lucifer hadn’t used seeing in the human.  “No one did, it was Jack’s choice, his decision.”

“He was supposed to be my son, the extension of my grace—”

“And he still is!” Sam interrupted. “I have no idea what happened between you two, but I know that.”

Lucifer closed his eyes and shook his head. “I... I listened to you. It’s not what I wanted, but because of you I accepted the idea that he will never be like me. But now he refuses to see my point. He refuses to accept me for who I am.”

Sam sighed slowly. “You know, it _is_ difficult to accept you for who you are.”

“And you think, I should change because of it? I lived for ages just fine the way I was, I never needed anyone! Why should it change now?!”

“What are you even talking about?” Sam surprised. “I’ve been to your head, why are you trying to tell me you don’t need anyone, when both of us know it’s untrue!”

And that was the final straw, an instance that made the archangel snap. Without second thought he pushed the hunter, slammed him against the wall. “Oh really, you’ve been into my head once and now think you know me so well?” he groaned.

And there it was, fear. Sam looked at him surprised, scared and a thought about Lucifer killing him crossed the hunter’s mind. But even then, he fought against the fear, because... because his concern for Lucifer overweight it.

“No,” he replied through his teeth. “I experienced a memory of it, I really don’t know what it was like, but I want to know more. What I know is that you locked yourself into an illusion of nobody caring, but it doesn't mean you can’t be loved anymore. Jack can still love you... I can.”

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Sam’s mind started to work frantically, as he understood what he said, how deep and personal it sounded. He wished he could correct himself, tell that he meant that he could care about the archangel.

Lucifer’s eyes flew open. He looked at the younger Winchester with shock, because suddenly he realized he wanted Sam to really mean what he said. “What are you doing to me?” the archangel exhaled, because he wasn't supposed to feel like that. He didn’t want it. He was afraid of it too.

“I...” Sam gulped not understanding what the other meant.

The hunter wanted to say something else, but Lucifer stepped away from him. He spun around, moved towards the exit, wishing to get away from Sam at least for the time being.

***

Lucifer had fought for his right to decide own fate. It would’ve been so easy to close up all his senses and simply follow his Father, without question, without though. Yet, he’d never wanted it, he wanted free will. There was a price to pay for it, and it was much higher than his fall from Heaven. It was the reality of making his own decisions, the choice of basing them on own desires or the needs of others.

The first was an easy one. The second one he had never thought to be important before he met his own son.

It was difficult to even breath at first, anger he felt made him see red. Yet, as the emotion calmed down, he found himself alone, hiding in one of the guest bedrooms, feeling more miserable than he remembered in a while.

He made a mistake. Then, trying to figure out how to fix it, he made another one. Even putting aside the fact he’d grown to care about both Jack and Sam, having a fight with them was a miscalculation.

In the end, it was easier to look at things from a tactical point of view.

He needed to make it right and, that in mind, he went to speak with his son first. Walking towards his room, Lucifer pondered what he was going to say. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change the fact he didn’t care about that human he slept with while possessing her real lover. But he could still apologize for upsetting Jack. He didn’t like the idea of apologizing and couldn’t remember if he ever done it, but if his Father managed to do it for him, he could do it for his son.

He stopped before Jack’s room, and heard a voice coming from behind the ajar door.

 _“Hi Jack, it’s a... I’m your mom... I guess I should tell you, I’ve always wanted to be a mom, I played with dolls, I was that kind of girl, daydream about my baby...”_ the recording continued for a while, Kelly’s soft voice interrupted by quiet sounds of Jack crying.

Lucifer felt strange, as if his grace shook inside him, as if he was slammed with a force of it and was left breathless. Kelly had a dream about raising a child, yet she chose to die. She knew birthing Jack would kill her, knew she could have gotten rid of the baby early on, find a new lover, get pregnant again, yet she chose to die for Lucifer’s son.

The archangel imagined himself dying before he could meet Jack, imagined his own dream of having someone who could love him ripped away from his grasp. It was a painful thought, but when he tried to imagine knowingly waiting for his death for months, he couldn’t do it.

And yet, this tiny little human did. Because she loved Jack.

In all the lows of humanity, the rare highs were shining the brightest.

And he told Jack his mother meant nothing.

“Jack,” the archangel called out knocking on the door before walking into his son’s room. “I’m... I’m so sorry,” he said and, to his complete surprise, he really meant it.

***

“Dean is going to kill it,” Castiel sighed pulling out a can of puppy formula and a bottle of water from the bag. He placed it on the nightstand in Jack’s room with thud that sounded a little too loud.

“He can’t even see it,” Lucifer shrugger. “Plus, hellhounds don’t naturally smell of sulfur, and we washed it.”

The pup was in a rather bad shape, and the archangel suspected he would've died by the end of the next day without their help. That was why, as soon as Dean disappeared into his room for the night, Lucifer tasked his brother with a grocery run for the starving dog.

“I once tried to bring in a guinea pig,” Castiel said. “Dean found it and made me return it to the store.”

“You poor little thing,” the archangel hummed watching Castiel curiously, yet he tried to look uninterested. “You just needed to ask him a little nicer,” he winked.

“I said please,” Castiel frowned, and this time Lucifer couldn’t hold himself from chortling.

Jack was sitting on his bed, holding the pup, waiting patiently until Castiel finished mixing the formula. He was looking between the two other angels with a confused expression, but he didn’t ask what the exchange was about.

Castiel shook a tiny feeding bottle and handed it to Jack, who accepted it with a smile and then offered the bottle to the hound. The pup sniffed at the nipple curiously. Slowly, but surely he started to lick it, before figuring out how to operate the bottle correctly.

“Start feeding him very little, then gradually increase the intake of food in the first week,” Castiel explained sounding annoyed. “Now, I really hope you don’t need me to go anywhere else.”

“I hear you. Human ways of transportation are not inspiring, ” Lucifer nodded.

Castiel didn’t reply, but he looked pathetic. It was such a common expression on him, that the archangel started to want to do something about it. If not for the sake of his little brother, than at least so he wouldn’t have to look at his long face anymore.

“How are those wings of yours coming, by the way?” he asked.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “I do not wish to discuss it,” he said.

“Sensitive topic, huh? You do remember Daddy used the same spell to kick me out, right?”

“Your wings seem fine,” Castiel observed. Then the gears finally started to turn in his head. “How long did it take?”

“Less time than you think,” Lucifer smirked. “Just a few more years and you’ll see some new feathers poping in.”

That brought a small, hopeful smile to Castiel’s face. “Very well," he nodded. "Now, if you excuse me,” he added turning towards the door and leaving Lucifer and Jack alone.

“Speaking of wings,” the archangel turned to his son. “You’re capable of flying through the walls in the bunker.”

Jack just finished feeding the hellhound and now the puppy was drifting to sleep in his arms. “I have difficulties flying. The times that I managed to do it, I was either upset, or was aftrain something could happen to Sam when I heard you calling for angels.”

“We could try the same way as with scrying,” Lucifer proposed. “You’ll look into my mind. How does that sound?”

Jack seemed to think about it. “Sam and Dean don't want you to leave the bunker.”

“Oh, come on,” the archangel encouraged. “They don’t need to find out.”

Jack finally nodded and placed the pup on a blanket on the floor. Then he turned his attention back to his father and, placing his hands on the archangel’s temples, closed his eyes.

Lucifer concentrated on the place he flew after escaping Crowley, on the green hills and rocky mountains, trying to recall as many details as he could so Jack could see it better. He recollected the smells and the coolness of the wind and the warmth of the sun.

He heard a flap of wings and the gentle tug of a flight, and when he opened his eyes they were suddenly in the bunker no longer, but standing on the cliff of a mountain, overlooking the hills. Lucifer found himself swelling with pride because of how easy Jack was able to pull it off.

While it was night back in Kansas, here the sun was shining bright above them. Lucifer spread his arms and allowed his wings to burst free to enjoy the warmth, and he laughed.

There was a question in the archangel’s mind about the fate of his son and his own fate. Sam’s ideas, his thoughts and wishes sent Lucifer’s perspective askew.

There was so much raw and untrained power in Jack that even Lucifer had difficulties comprehending it. The boy was destined to rule over Hell and Heaven and everything in-between. Yet, he also started to trust in the idea Jack’s happiness laid in his choice, in him surrounding himself with people who loved him and cared about him. Lucifer started to want it for him and also himself.

Something clicked in the archangel’s head and he almost rolled his eyes, because it was a sure sign if a prayer. It looked like he was an angel enough, he kept receiving them even now, when his powers were diminished. He planned to ignore it, as any other prayer of people trying to sell their souls or asking for wealth, girlfriends or a whole set of weird things he had no interest in.

Except this time it was nothing like that. This prayer wasn’t even for him, but for his Father and he was simply receiving it by proxy as it was _about him_.

Sam Winchester was praying to God for Lucifer’s salvation, his happiness. Even after the archangel had yelled at him, blaming him for no reason.

Lucifer’s eyes flew wide open. Oh, that fool. He still had so little he understood about the archangel, and yet he kept trying to help him. Sam Winchester, the biggest idiot.

When they were still human, Lilith wanted power, Dagon wanted fame, Asmodeus wanted influence, Ramiel wanted knowledge. Every other human he’d came across wanted something, that was why they were joining the fallen archangel.

But Sam just wanted Lucifer to be happy. What a nonsensical, useless wish. What a pathetic little fool, with his pathetic little dreams about free will, and peace, and sunshine, and whatever else.

Lucifer felt his vision becoming a little blurry and wondered what was the problem with his vessel’s eyes. He wanted to reach for them and see if they were damaged, but felt Jack’s wing touching his, warmth of a companionship between their graces spreading through his entire being, making the blurriness in Lucifer’s eyes intensify.

“I’m happy,” he heard Jack’s soft voice. “I’m happy that you’re... _not dark_.”

The blurriness disappeared, but something rolled down Lucifer’s cheek. When he finally reached to touch it and fount wetness with the tips of his fingers, he realized it were tears.

He was crying from strange emotions he forgot he’d ever had before. Having no idea what moved him that moment, he closed his eyes and started to sing. Not using his vessel, not moving his lips, but resonating his grace through the air, with his true voice. It was the same song he tried to compose when he was still in Heaven, when the humanity hadn’t yet existed, and he felt happy with his brothers and sisters. There were no words, or notes, or anything in the song a human could understand.

If the last time it was a disaster that made Raphael laugh, this time he thought he found what it was missing.

“It’s beautiful,” Jack said to him and it was the all recognition the archangel needed.

Except something else happened. Somewhere from the depth of Hell, from the furthest, darkest corner of it, another voice responded to the song, starting to sing it along Lucifer. It was someone who heard it before, someone who knew it.

“Brother,” the archangel breathed out, feeling hopeful for the first time in what felt like forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam couldn’t fall asleep. It was dark in the room and very quiet, not a single sound coming from the corridor. He laid in the middle of his bed looking at the ceiling even if he could barely distinguish it.

He pondered about getting up and, maybe, reading. He even moved the blanket out of the way before he heard the door into his room opening quietly, and he stilled himself. Even in complete darkness, without needing to see, he could recognize Lucifer shuffling towards his bed.

It was about two in the morning, and the hunter felt tired, but he couldn’t stop a strange kind of excitement raising in him. He tried to fight it and pretended to be asleep, hoping that Lucifer would... Sam admonished himself mentally, realizing that instead of hoping that Lucifer would ignore him and leave, he hoped the archangel would take advantage.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” Lucifer said and started to climb into Sam’s bed, pushing the hunter unceremoniously to the side to free more space.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam tried to protest, even if his excitement only continued to rise.

“Mmm,” Lucifer murmured quietly as he settled down, and his intonation told Sam he was up to no good, “that depends.”

Taking a deep breath Sam turned to his nightstand and flipped the switch to turn on the lamp which stood there. Then his attention returned to Lucifer, who was now lounging on his side, his head propped up. “Did you come to apologize?”

A short laughter escaped the archangel as he heard the question. “Of course, Sammy. That’s what I always do — apologize,” he said sarcastically.

“Than I have nothing to talk to you about,” Sam replied with a sigh.

They laid in silence for a moment. Sam’s bed was narrow, but there was just enough space for them not to touch, and the hunter found himself a little annoyed it was the case.

“Sooo,” Lucifer spoke again. “I was thinking. You want me, I want you, why haven’t we already done the dirty?”

Sam found himself rolling his eyes, noting Lucifer wearing a sly smile on his face that Sam really wished to wipe. “You know, I’m surprised how horrible you are at this. Seducing, I mean.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Oh, I dunno, maybe it’s because I’ve never tried to seduce anyone before? Cut me some slack, kid.”

“What?” Sam blurted staring at the archangel dumbfounded. “That’s... what?”

“Ugh,” Lucifer groaned, rising to sit on the bed now and rubbing his face. “I’m sorry to disappoint,” he said sounding slightly annoyed, but there was an uncomfortable note in his voice too, “I only had sex twice in my life. And even then not really because I wanted to.”

Sam stared at him in shock, unsure how to take this information. Ever since Lucifer told him he wanted to sleep with him, the hunter had thought it was just some game for the archangel. Just another conquest to conquer and move on. Now he had no idea what to think. “Why do you want it then, really?” he asked.

Lucifer watched him for a moment. He was hovering above the hunter, and Sam pondered if he needed to sit up too. In the end, he decided against it, hoping the higher ground would make Lucifer more comfortable to open up and tell the truth.

“I would tell you, but you see, I can’t find right words,” the archangel replied finally, his intonation sarcastic. “Let me just write it down as a poem in your diary.”

“You’re such an ass,” Sam huffed and turned away. “And you dared to judge my kissing techniques.”

“Yeah, hi! I’m Lucifer! Just feel like you need a reminder about who you’re dealing with.”

The hunter didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled a blanket higher over his shoulder and closed his eyes. He felt annoyed and really didn’t want to dig any further for answers, so he settled on ignoring the archangel.

There was a shuffle behind his back, and next moment Sam felt Lucifer slide against him. He found his back pressed flush against the archangel's chest, an arm wrapping around the hunter’s weist.

“There’s only one pillow,” Lucifer said as if it was a completely reasonable explanation for his behaviour. Because it surely could explain why his hand slid into Sam’s one, their fingers interlocking.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed squeezing the hand, his heart starting to pound with so much force he thought Lucifer was able to feel it. After their every conversation, after hours and hours he’d spent thinking about sleeping with the archangel, Sam expected to feel aroused in a situation like this. Yet, it wasn’t arousal he felt, but something deeper and warmer.

And it made everything so much worse.

***

Someone was knocking on Sam’s door. It wasn’t particularly loud, but in the quiet of his room, it was enough to wake the hunter up.

“Sammy, get up, I found something,” Dean was calling him, making the younger hunter curl further into the blanket, snuggling closer to the warmth next to him. “Sammy!” Dean tried again, forcing his brother to open his eyes.

It took him a moment to focus, but when he did, Sam was greeted with a groggy frown on Lucifer’s face. The archangel looked like if he also just woke up and wasn’t particularly happy about it. Sam pondered if he was supposed to feel really weird about waking up next to Lucifer, moreover snuggled to him, but he decided he needed to deal with Dean first.

“Be ready in a moment,” he replied, needing to raise his voice to make his brother hear him. That only made the frown on Lucifer’s face more pronounced.

“Wasn’t waking up next to someone supposed to feel nice?” the archangel grunted, “I’m regretting making myself sleep.”

It seemed that Sam’s answer satisfied his brother, and the younger hunter heard the sound of footsteps receding from his door. Finally, he was able to access his surroundings, and realized he was embarrassingly entangled with the archangel. Sometime in his sleep, Sam turned to lay on his back, yet his head was facing Lucifer, both sharing the same pillow. One of the archangel’s arms and his leg were thrown over Sam’s body, and the weight of it felt unreasonably good.

He tried to move away, but Lucifer was holding him tight in his grip. “Ok, let me go,” the hunter asked.

“Kiss me,” Lucifer demanded still sounding and looking sleepy.

Sam huffed and turned to face him completely. The request should’ve baffled him, yet not a single part of him felt estranged, for which the hunter hurried to blame his not fully awoken brain. “I haven't brushed my teeth yet,” he replied.

Lucifer’s eyes were still closed, but a smile spread over his face. “Hmm, is it the only reason?”

Sam thought about it. Then he thought about it some more and decided that sometime between the first phone call he’d received from Lucifer all those days ago and now he went completely insane. Or maybe it was still just a dream. “Mhh-mmm,” he said staring at Lucifer’s lips wondering whatever or not the stubble around them would feel unpleasant.

Turned out it felt alright. Sam found it out after Lucifer opened one eye and grinned at him. “I don’t care,” he said before proceeding to move forward. It was rather chast, just a few seconds of lips gently moving against each-other.

It was Sam who went a little further, his tongue poking out, swiping against the archangel’s bottom lip. This simple, tiny touch made Lucifer shiver against him, moan quietly into the hunter’s mouth. That, in turn, made Sam wonder what kind of other reactions he could force out of Lucifer if they took it up another notch.

“Sam! Do you want to have coffee now, or we could stop somewhere on the way?” Dean’s voice came again.

Lucifer broke the kiss, groaning in annoyance. “Oh, for the love of my Dad! Sam’s busy!” he answered, making Sam’s eyes bulge. The hunter wanted to reach out, to cover the archangel’s mouth with the palm of his hand, to shut him up. But it was way too late for that, there was no way Dean didn’t hear him.

“Huh?!” came a confused response, and Sam felt something inside him dying forever from embarrassment.

***

When Sam was a child, he liked snow, it associated in his mind with holiday season. Even if his family had never celebrated Christmas or New Year properly, Dean had always made sure to bring something for his younger brother, be it a dinner better better than packed macaroni and cheese, or a stolen from a convenience store toy.

As Sam grew older, he understood snow was more of a nuisance than a good thing. It was making nights colder and drives from town to town slower. His unappreciation for snow only increased when he learned how to drive himself.

Dean hated the snow even more than Sam did, because icy roads were horrible for the Impala's wheels, and wet snow was a bigger cause of corrosion than rain. He hated driving in snow, hating going into places that had snow.

That was why it was really weird the two of them were driving to Greenfield, Minnesota while it was snowing there.

“We could've called them,” Sam pointed out trying to stretch his legs in the limited space of the car.

They had a general idea of what Ketch wanted to do with the Book of the Damned, but they also knew he had no way of translating it. Sooner or later, he was bound to contact someone from the wicked community for help, and they needed people on the inside to know when and where it was going to happen.

They happened to know two people from this particular circle, James Frampton and his familiar Portia whom they’d helped a few years back. Of course, the two left the community some time ago, but they still had a few contacts, new and old, who could help keep an eye for anyone with ancient books needing translations.

“Nothing wrong with visiting old acquaintances from time to time,” Dean shrugged. “Plus, it’s bad for you to stay cooped up the whole day,” he added giving Sam another one of his side glances that made the younger hunter wish they stayed home instead.

Sam had tried to defuse the morning situation by telling it was one of Lucifer’s stupid jokes again. He’s been lying through his teeth of course, but it looked like Dean bought it. Or at least he pretended to buy it, because the way he’d been glancing at his younger brother the entire ride told Sam he still had his share of doubts.

“Yeah, except the last time you wanted to kill them,” Sam reminded.

“And I was wrong,” Dean shrugged. “I can, for once, admit it.”

Sam guessed the real reason behind the trip was Dean’s attempt to separate him from Lucifer. Perhaps, it even was a good thing, and Sam’s time away could prove beneficial. There was still a part of him that supernaturally longed for Lucifer’s presence, making him anxious from being separated. But it was much weaker that in the first few days, easily manageable.

Sam turned away from his brother to gaze at the white landscape they were passing, his chin resting on his hand. No matter how hard he was trying to distract himself, his thoughts kept returning to this morning, to how nice it felt to wake up next to Lucifer, to how _right_ the archangel’s lips felt against his.

On the corner of his eyes Sam caught his brother looking at him again. He knew there wasn’t a way he could keep the nature of his interactions with Lucifer a secret for much longer —  with the way the archangel behaved now, it was only going to become worse. Dean was never going to accept it without a fight, and that was also something Sam was afraid of.

***

James’ new place of residence was decent. It was a suburban house, not too big and not too small. It had a neat front yard, and a very cosy, bright interior. It was a family home, loved and cared for.

After leaving his work in the police forces, James started a career of a private investigator, having an office in nearby Minneapolis. Having magic to back him up, the business turned to be a success, and he was able to continue doing what he liked the most — helping people. And if it also paid well, that was just a plus.

“An artifact like that sounds too dangerous to exist,” Portia said frowning.

The familiar didn’t look the same way Sam remembered seeing her the last time. Her black, revealing outfit was gone, replaced with simple sweatpants and a blue blouse that looked comfortable, but not at all slovenly.

She sat on a couch next to James with her hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa, looking thoughtful and worried. Sam and Dean occupied two chairs on the opposite from them side. There was a table in between them, and an assortment of snacks was presented on it, most of which were different kinds of cookies.

“I agree,” James nodded. “If any of a less competent witches gets a hold of it, it might have disastrous consequences. We will keep an eye for it.”

“Thank you,” Sam offered the two hosts a genuine smile.

“So, about the other thing you came for,” James continued turning his attention to Sam.

“The other thing?” the younger hunter surprised looking at James in disbelief before turning to his brother for an explanation, watching him send yet another cookie into his mouth.

“Mhmm,” Dean nodded enthusiastically, barely managing to finish chewing. “You said you had potent cleansing spells. Do you have something that can cleanse mind manipulation?”

“Yes, we have a ritual that can dispel any supernatural influence on a person,” Portia confirmed with a nod. “As I understand it was some sort of a love spell?”

Sam’s eyes went wide as he understood why exactly his brother dragged him here. The older hunter was under the impression Lucifer did something to him that messed up his perception. Sam felt angry and frustrated, and he had to hold himself from snapping and yelling at Dean in front of their hosts. “If you give us a second,” he smiled awkwardly getting up from his chair and grabbing his brother by the shoulder, dragging him into a different room.

The adjacent room turned out to be a kitchen. It was spacious and bright, because of white floors and cabinets. There was something that smelt nicely, like a pot roast spiced with rosemary and basil, yet Sam couldn’t see anything cooking. “What the hell?” he hissed at his brother feeling embarrassed James and Portia though he was under some weird influence.

“You tell me what the hell!” Dean replied in the same hushed manner. “What is going on between you and Lucifer? I mean _you and Lucifer!_ Does that sound even remotely normal to you?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I told you, he’s just being a jerk with a messed up sense of humor,” he replied trying to sound as convincing as he could.

“Oh yeah, his messed up sense of humor makes you check out his ass every time you think no-one’s looking!” Dean hissed sarcastically and Sam felt as if the floor cracked under him, and he was now falling somewhere into a deepest, darkest pit of embarrassment. “And, I mean, come on! I might not be the sharpest tool in the box when it comes to things like that, but if you were even a little bit more obvious, I’d have to follow you around to wipe the drool from the floor.”

“Dean, I...” Sam started but he had no idea what he could say, how he could even start defending himself.

“And I don’t know what is it, a spell, or some weird version of Stockholm syndrome, but it’s not you!”

“You don’t know that!” Sam replied, his face burning by this point.

“I don't? Great!” Dean nodded. “In this case you’ll just go through that cleansing ritual and will see if that changes anything.”

Sam continued to stare at his brother in disbelief, realizing that he was right. If there were no supernatural influences on his behaviour, than the spell would do nothing to him. And if his attraction to Lucifer was indeed forced onto him, it would be better to get rid of it. It was the right thing to do.

Except when he imagined, even for a moment, his feelings for the archangel removed, replaced with fear, or even worse — indifference, something in Sam screamed at him to turn around and run as fast as he could. He was afraid to lose it, was afraid to return back to bunker, look at Lucifer and see nothing but an old enemy whom they kept around out of usefulness.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he nodded nonetheless.

***

The basement looked nothing like the rest of the house. Its walls and ceiling were covered in strange symbols, a large star of Solomon was painted on the floor. All of it was done with something dark brown, and Sam sincerely hoped it wasn’t dry blood. On the very far end of the basement stood an altar, several candles were lit on top it, and it was the only source of light in the otherwise dark room.

In general, the atmosphere made the hunter think they came here to kill something rather than to actually work with a witch.

“Alright, go sit in the very center,” James directed him, pointing at the star.

Sam still felt uncomfortable, but he understood it was a necessary evil. Reluctantly, he moved to sit in the indicated spot and watched Portia placing and lighting even more candles around the circle, while James was throwing ingredients into the bowl. Sam didn’t even care what they were, just wishing to be done with this.

The pain was something he was not prepared for. It stuck through him leaving him breathless, arching. It felt like a thousand of knives pierced him, like he was burning and freezing alive at the same time. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but after a while something was started to stir in him. It swirled inside him before being forcefully shown out of his body. Yet, Sam didn’t want to lose it, so he clenched tight into it, even if he knew it was useless. It was a part of Lucifer, but it was his too, it belong to him, with him.

Lucifer belonged with him.

He thought he cried out, but maybe it was just the ringing in his ears, every sound around muffled, every voice was like an echo which came from hundreds of miles away. He thought Dean was yelling something, then felt someone’s hands grabbing him, pulling him somewhere. There was a touch of cold against his face, something spilling in wet mess around him.

Slowly it started to return to normal. The pain was leaving him, and his vision came into focus.

“Sam?” Dean was calling him.

“I’m so sorry,” James apologized. “It’s usually pretty painless, but whatever it was, was really integrated into him. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Is it gone, though?” Dean inquired.

Portia came to check him, she took his face into her hands, looking into the younger hunter’s eyes. “Yeah, it’s gone,” she confirmed.

“Great. How do you feel?” Dean asked his brother

The younger hunter took a deep breath and looked at his brother. He thought about the question, listened to his feelings and emotions. The strange uncomfortableness of being separated from the archangel was gone completely. “I’m good,” Sam smiled, and almost started to laugh, because nothing else beside it changed. He couldn’t wait to return to the bunker and see the archangel again, he still craved for his closeness, his touch. He wanted to embrace him, fall asleep and wake up next to him. He wanted to kiss him again. “Really good.”

Dean exhaled deeply and offered him a hand, and only now he realized he laid on the cold cement floor in a small pool of water that was splashed into his face.

“Thanks,” Sam nodded offering another smile to his brother. “I think I’m ready to get back now.”

***

It was quiet in the car on their way back, no music playing, but Sam found the roar of the engine lulling, the silence between them comfortable, which was strange giving the circumstances. The day almost changed into night, and the naked trees rushing past Sam’s eyes looked almost like black paper cutouts against the dark blue sky.

On the corner of his eyes, Sam more felt that saw his brother sending him glances, as if he wanted to ask something, but wasn’t sure how. “We’ll find the stupid book,” he said finally and Sam already wasn’t liking where his brother was going with it, “and when Michael goes to the Cage, Lucifer will follow.”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Dean, he’s not a threat! Even Cas is stronger than him at the moment. Our mom can beat him up.”

“I don’t understand, why are you continue to protect him?” Dean asked in almost pleading intonation. “After he killed so many people, in cold blood. Never we allowed anyone go free after what he’d pulled.”

“We allowed to go you free,” Sam pointed out. “The things you did two years ago, they weren't pretty either. And look, I’m not saying we should count you responsible for it, I’m saying people deserve second chances.”

“That was different,” Dean replied immediately. “I was—”

“You were what, Dean? Corrupted by the Mark of Cain?”

Dean fell silent and under every passing road light that illuminated his face, Sam could see how unsure he looked. “I’m guessing it didn’t work then,” he said sounding more tired than anything else. “The cleansing ritual, I mean.”

Sam huffed quietly in response. “It did, I guess. In its own manner,” he shrugged. “Just... I don’t know. He’s... different now.”

Another moment of silence hung between them and Sam found himself silently praying Dean at least give him a chance. He didn’t want to argue with his brother anymore, he didn’t need him to agree, just accept. “Whatever is it going on between you two,” Dean sighed finally, “it ain’t gonna end well. Mark my word, Sammy, you’ll end up stabbed. Either by him, or because of him. And then it happens, I _will_ find a way to bring you back, and I _will_ kill him.”

Sam gulped, the cold of Dean’s voice making him shiver as if the air in the car became suddenly freezing.

***

It was already past midnight when Sam found himself in the library alone with Lucifer. It took a while before everyone in the bunker disappeared into their corners, and all that time Same waited patiently. Now he stood leaning on a column, watching the archangel move about, looking at random things. It was obvious Lucifer knew about his presence, but he chose to ignore it, his back turned to the hunter.

Sam licked his lips, his eyes sliding up and down Lucifer’s frame without shame or regret, drinking in the sight of it. First touch of desire was smoldering like a tiny coal, ready to burst into a real flame if Sam was only too allow it. And he saw no more reasons against it, because where there used to be a seemingly endless amount obstacles between them, now there were only several feet of the library’s floor.

It was almost funny how things played out. Dean obviously wanted to help him, and he did. Just, instead of ridding him of the desire, it simply sped up the inevitable.

The hunter took a step, than another before he reached Lucifer, his arms wrapping around the shorter man, sliding under the hem of his shirt until reaching the skin underneath.

Lucifer didn’t flinch, at least not from surprise, but he trembled as Sam’s chest pressed against his back, as the hunter’s head came to rest on his shoulder, his lips pressed against the archangel's temple.

“Who are you and what did you do to my Sammy?” Lucifer chuckled leaning backwards into the embrace.

Sam chuckled too, before proceeding to place an open mouthed kiss on the archangel’s neck, making him gasp. “You’re rather... responsive,” he muttered against the skin.

Lucifer exhaled slowly before, in one quick fluid motion, he grabbed Sam by the wrist, spinning them around, and now it was Sam’s back pressed against the bookshelf. “You were saying?”

There was desire in his eyes too, as if the entire evening Sam spent looking at him from the distance he was patiently waiting for the hunter to make the first step. No-one had ever looked at Sam like this before, like they craved him for an eternity.

“I want you,” the hunter whispered before pulling Lucifer closer, bringing their lips together and kissing him as he wanted to express everything he felt in this simple gesture.

Lucifer answered with the same abandon, his tongue darting from his mouth, entwining with Sam’s own. It was messy, and with a strange kind of satisfaction the hunter realized Lucifer was pretty bad at it, opening his mouth a little too much, sucking too little. It was not a kind of smugness over being better, but a mental enjoyment from the idea of being one of so very few who were given the honor.

Sam grinned into the kiss and his hands came to cup Lucifer’s buttocks, his hips bucking to grind against the archangel. A wave of pleasure shot though his body, both because of the friction, and because he could now feel a hard length of the other’s erection pressed against him.

Moaning into Sam’s mouth, Lucifer mirrored his motion, and it felt so good the hunter though they both could finish right here and now. “My room,” he managed to gasp.

***

The trip down the corridor was a blur. Sam wasn’t sure which one of them was leading, but he decided it didn’t matter.

The moment the door closed behind their back, they were all over each other yet again. Sam’s hands were traveling up and down Lucifer’s body, pulling off his shirt and exploring unfamiliar planes. It wasn’t what he was used to, but somehow it only made the hunter more excited.

A second passed, and Lucifer had him pinned against a wall. He tore the hunter’s shirt off as if it was made of paper, the buttons flying into every direction to be lost and forgotten. He was kissing Sam senseless, making it up with inthusiasm where he lacked in skill.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Lucifer murmured against Sam’s lips undoing the belt buckle of the hunter’s jeans and pushing them down, and the filthiness of his language made Sam shiver, until the meaning of the archangel’s words reached his brain.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he replied stepping out his pants and starting to push Lucifer towards his bed, now completely determined to make him forget his own name tonight. He wanted to see him undone, lose his composure to pleasure. He wanted to see how Lucifer would look when he comes.

The archangel muttered another creative combination of obscenities, but allowed himself to be pushed, until his legs touched the edge of the mattress, until his back hit the soft surface of it. He moaned as Sam climbed on top of him, pinning him down with the weight of his body.

Lucifer pulled Sam closer, swiping his tongue over the hunter’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. And then he bit, making Sam yelp in surprise from the unexpected ping of pain. “Just so you know,” the archangel smirked, “I’m also leaving a mark or two on you tonight.”

“God,” Sam whispered feeling a tinge of iron on his tongue, a shiver running down his spine. He leaned back in, his lips nibbling on the angels chin, hands running down his hips. Then immediately he stumbled, because it was probably the most inappropriate thing to say at the moment, and wondered if Chuck could see this now. On the other hand, Sam decided, let him watch. After everything he’d done to Lucifer, let him need all the brain bleach in the universe to erase this out of his mind. Sam was going to put up a good show.

Lucifer laughed suddenly, sounding amused and it clicked in Sam’s head. “Are you reading my mind?” he frowned looking into the archangels eyes.

“You think loudly,” Lucifer winked, raising his hand to move a strand of rogue hair from the hunter’s face. Then, either because he decided not to tease the hunter at the moment, or because of the stern expression on Sam’s face, he sighed. “I really wish I could stop, I’m tired of it myself. But it was a side effect of our merging. Almost wore off by now, I only hear your thoughts when we touch.”

Sam exhaled loudly, he didn’t know what to make of it, but there was no way he could stop either. He doubted that in the next hour or two he was going to think anything he really wanted to hide from Lucifer anyway.

Grabbing the archangel by his shoulders, Sam pulled him for another rough kiss.

It was a blur from that moment on. Their hands were everywhere, rubbing, patting, exploring. Sam’s lips came to Lucifer’s neck, nibbling and licking down, until reaching the stupid collar. He kissed around it, thanking the archangel mentally for putting up with this, as he knew how much Lucifer hated to be bound.

The archangel made a strained sound, something between a groan and a chuckle, and the next moment Sam found himself flipped around with an inhuman strength, Lucifer straddling him. The archangel’s gaze traveled up and down Sam’s body, expression full of hunger, before stopping at Sam’s erection barely contained by a thin layer of his briefs.

And the only thing Sam could think of was sinking into his mouth.

Lucifer shivered, his eyes turning red for a second as if he couldn’t decide if he was going to indulge Sam in the little fantasy, or punch him for daring to imagine something like that. Still, he descended lower and moved the underwear out of the way, his fingers reaching to run up and down the shaft, making Sam tremble under the careful exploration.

“I possessed this body before,” he whispered, and the hunter felt his chilly breath. "I thought I knew every inch of it. And yet... I’m glad I still have new things to explore,” he chuckled before his lips closed around Sam.

The hunter had no idea how, but while his breath was almost icy, the inside of his mouth was like a furnace, and the difference of it felt amazing. Lucifer chuckled around him and it made Sam gasp from the sensation. It caught Lucifer’s attention and he hummed low around the shaft, and yes, perhaps having someone who could read your mind in bed had its merits.

The pressure in the room shifted, the air becoming heavier and cooler. A pair of large dark-grey wings unfurled behind the archangels back, spreading over the entirety of the room. They knocked several books from Sam’s table, an empty mug that fell onto the ground shattering into pieces, knocked over a chair, and Sam really hopped there was enough distance between rooms that no-one else in the bunker could hear it.

Sam thought the wings were gorgeous, and he repeated it out loud just to make his point clearer.

A little distracted by the sensation of the archangel’s lips, and his beautiful wings, Sam almost missed the point when one of Lucifer’s hands slid under his knee starting to move his legs apart, while the other traveled under him, the index finger rubbing gently over the cleft of Sam’s buttocks.

It felt nice and just for a second the hunter thought he could give in. He didn’t know what to expect, but knew Lucifer wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. Then he decided it wasn’t going to happen, at least not now.

Reached out, Sam pulled the archangel upwards, completely on top of himself, trying to flip them over again. Yet it didn’t work. Their eyes met, both their gazes full of determination, and challenge, and defiance, but Sam most definitely wasn’t going to lose it, whatever it was. And so he _thought_ about the real direction he wished this night to continue, trying to imagine it in most explicit details, until Lucifer opened his mouth in a silent pant, until a shiver ran down his body.

There was a final straw Sam though he could add. Reaching behind Lucifer, he ran his fingers over his wings again, over the area where they were connecting to his back, gently tugging on the tiny, delicate feathers.

Lucifer moaned low and loudly, falling completely into the hunter’s arms. “This is cheating,” he whispered against the skin of Sam’s neck, before his lips enclosed around a patch of skin there, sucking on it with all the determination of a person whose goal was to leave a blossoming mark.

It was Sam’s turn to chuckle as he flipped them around without any resistance now. He didn’t stop playing with his wings either, caressing the areas Lucifer had specifically told him not to touch before. Judging by how it made the archangel pant and writh against the bed sheets, the hunter got an impression he wasn’t going to be asked to stop.

There was still a pair of jeans between them and, no matter how much the hunter hated it, he needed to withdraw from the soft feathers and incredibly delicate skin underneath them. Reaching down, he pulled off the last pieces of clothing from the archangel, finding himself in front of completely naked and very aroused man.

Their gazes locked again and there was a question in Sam’s mind. The answer to it was in the way Lucifer’s skin was flushed, in deep breathes he was taking, and in how his wings were twitching impatiently.

“Yes,” Lucifer made a deep throaty sound, and his legs moved apart, completely shameless, inviting, and it shouldn't have been so arousing, but somehow Sam almost lost any semblance of composure.

Leaning forward, the hunter reached for the nightstand. He should’ve counted on it to happen, but he didn’t, so he had to rummage through some stuff before he managed to locate a bottle of clear liquid and a pack of condoms.

Lucifer laid beneath him breathing heavy, but otherwise stopping to move. He was watching him closely, red glow returning to his eyes. Under this stare, Sam found his hands shaking slightly as he was trying to unwrap the small cardboard box out of the clear wrapper.

A sigh came from the archangel and his hand landed on the pack, plucking it out of Sam’s grip. “Don't need it,” he hissed and the condoms flew into the farthest corner where it collided with a wall and flopped onto the floor.

“O-ok,” Sam breathed out taking the lube instead, hoping sincerely Lucifer wasn’t going to take it away too.

“It would be difficult for you to hurt me, so you don’t have to be too gentle,” Lucifer chuckled. There was a promise in his words, and Sam had to bite down a very inappropriate sound.

“Yeah,” the hunter nodded, “Yeah, ok,” he repeated himself again, because all of the determination from earlier was gone, replaced now with anticipation.

This was real, this was happening.

Not to waste any more time, Sam squeezed a copious amount of lubricant onto his palm, doing a quick job spreading it over his length. He reached for the archangel then, his fingers probing at the entrance into his body, slipping two of his fingers in.

Lucifer was tense, watching him. If not for several soft sounds he made as Sam’s fingers were carefully stretching him, Sam would’ve thought he was unaffected.

“Sam,” the archangel breathed licking his lips, sounding as if he was starting to lose his patience, but there was something else in his voice too.

Looking closely, Sam realized there was a little bit of nervousness in him, and he remembered this was as new of a theretory for Lucifer as it was for him. Newer even, all things considered. Reaching down, Sam kissed him again, slow and reassuring, feeling the archangel starting to relax into the kiss and around his fingers.

Finally moving away, Sam took himself into his hand to guide against Lucifer’s entrance before starting to slowly push in, feeling the archangel’s body giving way. Of course, Lucifer told it was difficult to hurt him, but Sam still moved with caution, watching every tiny reaction on the archangel’s face to make sure it wasn’t too much. It felt a little as if he stood face to face with a king cobra, afraid to make a wrong move.

“I’m actually a constrictor” Lucifer rolled his eyes wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist, tightening his grip and pulling him closer in one swift motion, making him sink all the way in.

Both of them gasped, Lucifer’s head fell onto the pillow. His wings flapped once, twice knocking over some other things in Sam’s room, and the hunter could find neither strength nor desire to wander what they were.

Instead, his lips fell on the Lucifer’s offered neck nibbling and licking and trying to leave a mark too, even if Sam had no idea whether or not it would stay there.

The archangel was hot inside, and tight too, and Sam was so ridiculously turned on by this point, he thought he could come in a matter of seconds if he allowed himself to. But he didn’t want to, he wanted to push Lucifer over the edge first.

That in mind, Sam reached for his wings again. He wasn’t gentle this time, grabbing a handful of feathers and pulling. It came out a little rougher than he anticipated, and the hunter pondered if it was too much, because Lucifer cried out, his back arching from the bed as if in pain.

“More,” the archangel demanded. “Do. That. Again,” he added between gasps.

And Sam provided, continuing to interchange gentle ruffling of feathers with rougher pulls and grabs as he withdrew and pushed himself back into his body. And again, until Lucifer lost it and began to quietly wimper under the hunter, calling his name for time to time. His arms came around Sam’s neck, holding into him, trying to pull him even closer, even if Sam thought it was physically impossible.

“I’ll get back at you for this,” Lucifer breathed out a promise, before his entire body trembled, warmth spilling between their bodies. A ragged cry tore from the archangels throat, which Sam had to immediately capture with own lips in fear of everyone in the bunker hearing it.

Sam wasn’t able to do a thing about Lucifer’s wings, however. Without restraint they started to flap, kicking everything that was still standing from its places. The bookshelf, the second chair, and even the TV hanging on the wall behind them fell to the ground, knocked over.

Neither he could stop, because one more thrust, another and Sam was coming too, moaning into the archangels mouth, before collapsing on top of him completely boneless.

Sam still felt like floating somewhere, trying to catch his breath, feeling Lucifer’s matching pants against his ear, feeling arms still wrapped tight around him. Then someone banged on the door with the force.

“Sam? Sam, what happened?” Dean’s concerned voice came through it.

“Oopsie,” Lucifer chuckled quietly, the intonation of his voice telling Sam he had no remorse about the situation.

“Everything’s fine!” Sam yelled, raising up just slightly to glare at Lucifer, his expression warning. “Just... just tripped over a chair!” He explained trying to sound convincing, ready at the same time to cover the archangel’s mouth in case he was going to open it.

“Real smooth,” Lucifer provided in a whisper, making Sam want to kick him.

Silence followed, and the younger Winchester closed his eyes hoping his brother would just let it go and leave him.

“Yeah, ok, if you say so,” Dean finally replied, and Sam heard him walk away. In the silence that followed Sam exhaled slowly, dropping his head onto Lucifer’s shoulder.

A moment later he heard the archangel chuckle. Huffing, Sam slipped out of him and reached for the bedstant for some napkins to make a quick job of cleaning both of them. Then he rolled to lay beside Lucifer, landing on the soft wing that was immediately wrapped around him. He had many questions, pondered what were they going to do now. Whatever or not this meant anything.

“Do you always think so much?” Lucifer sighed turning to him.

“Ignore it, I’m not going to fish for answers you are not willing to give,” Sam replied kissing Lucifer’s shoulder.

“You have no idea what I’m willing to do do,” he said softly and there was an honest affection in his eyes.

Sam thought about it. “I want to know you. The real you. You give me glimpses of it from time to time, but I want to know everything. No matter how long it would take for me to learn,” he confessed.

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. “And what if you won’t like what you learn?” he asked.

“I can decide it for myself.”

Lucifer watched him closely. “You’re such a peculiar thing,” he spoke softly, his palm coming to cup Sam’s cheek, his thumb pressing into the hunter’s lower lip.

“Maybe,” Sam sighed. “Maybe I am insane, but you asked what I want and that’s it.”

Lucifer fell silent watching Sam for quite a while, his gaze traveling around the features of Sam’s face. His wing was wrapped secure around the hunter, moving slightly against his skin as if petting him.

Sam closed his eyes, Lucifer’s warmth was lulling him to sleep, especially in contrast with the room temperature that was now much lower than it should’ve been. He had no idea how long they laid like that, but he almost drifted into slumber, before he felt the archangel’s hand returning to touch him, running up and down his hip. “Do you think we’re done?” Lucifer whispered into his ear and there was heat in his voice again.

“No, not at all, we can go for another round,” Sam grinned feeling the desire stirring in him once more. Leaned forward, he recaptured the archangel’s lips.

***

By the time Lucifer carefully untangled Sam from his wings, and moved to sit on the bed next to him, it’s already been almost morning. The windows in the room were small and it was still dark outside, but the archangel had enough grace to knowing the exact time.

It’s been exactly three hours and six minutes since Sam fell asleep, and Lucifer continued to lay beside the hunter and watch him.

There was no need to wait, Lucifer knew he could leave any moment, yet the warmth of the human’s body against his vessel felt comforting, Sam’s presence next to him was reassuring. Once upon a time, he knew how it felt to care for someone, then it was ripped away from him. Now he was reminded it by someone he expected it from the least.

He wished he could really explore it all without second thought or remorse, but the Michael from the alternative reality was still out there, while his real brother was trapped in the Cage.

Relying on the Winchesters to defeat this Michael was out of the question, because so far they have done nothing but wasted time on arguments and futile attempts to find the Book of the Damned. Lucifer needed to do something, but he knew the price of his actions was going to be dire.

Sighing, he reached out for the sleeping human, covering him with a blanket to keep him warm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly. “Even if I speak my mind, I always skip the important parts.”

He didn’t want to leave, wanted make himself fall asleep again, both because it turned out to be a pleasurable pastime, and because waking up next to Sam felt rewarding. But he couldn’t do it.

His thumb brushed over Sam’s lip, touching the dried blood from the bite. “I hope you find it in you to forgive me for what I’m going to do, but even if you won’t, I guess I deserve it.”

Standing up from the bed, he reached for the collar on his neck, clicking the lock open with ease. The spell Mary cast said blood needed to be placed willingly, yet there was nothing about it being knowingly. He left the collar on the pillow next to Sam before picking up his discarded clothes and dressing himself.

As he opened the door out of the room, he couldn’t help but spare one more glance at the sleeping man, he was leaving behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Lucifer wasn’t entirely sure how he found himself on a street in Lawrence. By all common sense this city shouldn't have held any significance to him, but his last week was anything but common. It wasn’t his decision to come here, it was a tracking spell that pointed him in this direction, and the archangel wondered if his Father had a sense of irony after all.

To his relief, he wasn’t pointed to the house where Sam used to live, it wasn’t even in the same part of the town. Lucifer didn’t want to even come close to _that_ house and he couldn’t explain why.

The weather was rather on the cold side. There was some snow on the ground, but the archangel suspected it was going to melt by the middle of the day. Still, in his thin white shirt and a light jacket he looked a little out of season. Why he cared about it he didn’t know.

He was walking down the street that wasn’t in the center of the city. Yet it wasn't in suburbia either, but something in between, like it couldn’t decide what it was supposed to be. There were several multiple story apartments, mixed with private houses with yards, and fences, and dogs barking at him from the other sides of the windows.

Lucifer thought this entire place was kind of pathetic.

The house he came to was a three story apartment building that was constructed at least half a century ago. The outside of it was made of red brick, and the building itself looked plain and boring, like something no-one would spare a second glance at.

Next to the building was a tiny park, a playground and several benches surrounding it. In the early hours it was completely empty, except for one person who sat on the bench with a tome of what looked to be Sandman comics in her hands.

“Howdy,” Lucifer smirked approaching her. “I would like to talk to your boss.”

The reaper glanced up at him from under a frizz of her very curly black hair, before her attention returned to the book. “Can’t do,” she shrugged.

It irritated Lucifer, and he wished he could grab her by the neck and force her to comply. Unfortunately, even the lowest of the reapers was on the same power level with him and an attempt at intimidation might prove to be fatal. “You have no idea who you talking to,” he tried still.

“Lucifer,” she replied. “Second son of God, second most powerful archangel, the original Prince of Hell. Younger brother to Michael, father to the nephilim named Jack, lover to Sam Winchester.”

That took Lucifer completely by surprise, and he stared at her in shock. Of course, Jack had been around for months, and there were plenty of rumors about him. But the Sam part happened merely a few hours ago, there was no way a reaper could have known that.

“Oookay,” the archangel frowned, trying to ignore it. “Is there any way for me to speak to him?”

The reaper glanced at him again. “Sit with me,” she proposed.

“You know, the world’s ending, and I don’t really have time for this, so if you just could point me in the direction—”

“Sit. With. Me,” she repeated, and Lucifer could suddenly feel a wave of power radiating from her.

It was so potent, the archangel found himself almost shivering in dread. Silently, he found himself complying with her, settling down to the bench. “You’re,” he gulped. “You’re him.”

“I’m not him, but the next reincarnation of him,” she shook her head, “Name’s Billie.”

And like that, the aura of immense power was gone, leaving the archangel even more annoyed than before and still unable to do a thing about it. “Billie the Pale Horse... woman? What should I even call you?”

Billie rolled her eyes, but didn’t reply.

“And what happened to the charismatic guy?” the archangel tried again.

“Dean Winchester happened,” she shrugged.

“Ha,” Lucifer chuckled in amusement. “Figures,” he nodded looking around the place. “I assume you know why I’m here then, but why are you here? Can’t imagine someone so important lives in this hellhole that Death herself came to reap ‘em.”

“No,” she shook her head, finally closing her comic book and turning to look at Lucifer. Behind her, smoke started to rise from the building. “Something truly fascinating is going to happen here very soon. So please, witness it with me.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned backwards onto the bench crossing his legs. “Sure, always happy to watch people burn alive.”

The archangel guessed it right, because only a few minutes later the smoke from the building intensified, an alarm sounded, and dozens of people started to run out from the exit. By the time sirens sounded in the area, the flames were already emerging from the window of one of the apartments, ready to spread to a neighboring one.

Several red trucks and ambulances parked next to the building, people in uniforms started to jump out and spread around the premises. Police came and began organizing bystanders out of the way to allow more space for the firefighters. Yet, there were still people trying to get closer, to get a better look, or try taking pictures with their phones, obstructing the work of the emergency responders.  It was bad already, but then news showed up, and more people from the neighborhood.

“It’s noisy, messy,” Lucifer shook his head disgusted. “Kind of stupid commotion only humans can arrange. They can’t even comprehend they are making it worse. And Dad still thought ‘hey, what a nice bunch!’”

A man on the street was trying to run back inside, forcefully pushing past the police officers as if he had a death wish. Lucifer already started to roll his eyes, but then something stopped him. “Please, my son is still inside!” the man yelled.

The archangel’s eyes snapped upwards to one of the windows that was expelling smoke. There was a small human child, no older that nine or ten, was crying for his father. Firefighters below the window assembled a life net trying to coax the kid to jump, but he was too scared, too young to understand staying put was going to kill him.

Lucifer felt the heart of his human vessel starting to beat so fast it almost left him dizzy. He clenched his hands into fists, yet it provided no relief. He pictured Jack smiling to him, and an image of losing his son that followed felt too real, too frightening. He saw a bloodied crib then, a small plush toys that no longer had an owner, recognizing it to be his vessel’s memories, yet the pain that came with them was real too.

Sam’s words about imagining himself in other people’s shoes echoed through his head again, and this lesson in empathy was the worst thing Sam could’ve done to him. And it was the best thing too.

Without even realizing it at first, Lucifer found himself getting off the bench and running towards the burning building. There was a few police officers who attempted to stop him, but Lucifer pushed them away like they were nothing, running past the medics, past yelling firefighters and into the smoke filled staircase.

He really missed the time he could put out fires like this with a snap of his fingers. The smoke was not a problem for the archangel. Even with his grace depleted, he had enough of it to be able to sustain his vessel without oxygen for at least an hour. The flames themselves were a different thing. While he could redirect some of the heat, he was simply too weak to come out of this misadventure without a single scrape.

Two stories up and he was already starting to feel burns on the areas of his skin not protected by clothes, yet he ignored it and pushed forward. Third floor was the worst, and it was difficult to see a thing behind the smoke. There were two apartments on this staircase landing, the one that he needed was open, fire eating the insides of the apartment.

Groaning in frustration and trying to protect his face as much as he could, Lucifer jumped inside. The living room and one of the bedrooms were consumed completely, and the fire was now reaching out to the last bedroom. The door leading into it had a cartoonish looking dinosaur and a name Donnie written on it.

It was quiet inside and when the archangel stepped in, he saw the child laying on the floor, either unconscious or dead from inhaling too much smoke. Hoping sincerely it wasn’t the latter, Lucifer picked the kid up and looked out the window.

The firefighters were already removing the life net, most likely seeing the child collapse. It was both a good and a bad thing, because, as the archangel jumped out of the window, there was no one in his way. At the same time, as he landed on his feet cracking asphalt under him, he knew it wasn’t going to go unnoticed.

Immediately, he saw flashes of light, cameras and phones aimed at him. As fast as he could, he handed the child to the medics and flapped his wings trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and this circus without completely losing the sight on the building.

He landed a block away behind a similar apartment complex, leaning on the wall in a stingy back alley. His hands stung with pain, and when he looked down he saw burns covering them, angry looking blisters. He felt the same burns on his neck and, no matter how much he tried to protect them, his face and head suffered a little too.

He groaned, hoping he could heal all of it without scarring the vessel. Not that he cared much about his appearance, but he didn’t want to make blending in problematic.

“Good job,” came Billie’s voice from behind the corner. “The superhero landing was a nice touch too.”

“Heh, I guess I messed up that fascinating thing you wanted to witness,” Lucifer shrugged sliding down the cold brick wall, feeling the cold winter air cooling down his burnt skin. Then he turned his head, his eyebrow rising as the realization came to him. “Really? I mean, really?”

Billie laughed. “I witnessed the infamous Lucifer saving a human today. Not out of need, not because he was forced, but because it was the right thing to do.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it was a one time deal,” the archangel replied. “Besides, how would you know I didn’t just figured out your plan and played along to get what I need.”

“Because I’m literally Death?” Billy frowned with a shrug. “My sight was rather limited once, but now I look at you and know every possible action you can take and every outcome of that action.”

“Great, I get it,” Lucifer nodded. “My future in my own hands, with great power comes great responsibility, you like to read comic books. Can we now get to the matter of business?”

“You want to know if I could rip the Michael from the parallel dimension out or send him back where he belongs,” Billie nodded walking closer to him. “Unfortunately, I can’t. Another universe, another set of rules, I hold no powers over that Michael.”

“What about arranging a meeting with my real brother?”

Billie tilted her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can, but why should I?”

“Oh, come on!” Lucifer leaned his head against the wall and immediately regretted it, pain hitting him with a new wave. “What part of Apocalypse three point oh do you not understand?”

“Apocalypse? Weren’t you the one trying to start the first one?”

Lucifer glared at the new reincarnation of Death, but it only made her more amused. He pondered about trying to come up with a sarcastic reply, but suspected sarcasm was going to bring them nowhere close to resolving the issue. “I saw the world in which the Apocalypse happened. The war between angels and demons never stopped, even after my — well, my double’s — death. I can disagree with my Father as much as I want, but this world...” he trailed off not wanting to finish the sentence, because no matter what he would say, it would make him sound sappy.

“I see,” Billie nodded. Then she placed her hand on the archangel’s shoulder and Lucifer felt cold energy creeping through him. It was so alien and unfamiliar to him, he almost flinched away, but then noticed the pain was starting to leave his body, his burns healing. “I can’t create holding cells, it’s not exactly in my work description. I can, however, pull Michael out. As I understand you don’t really have anything that can hold an archangel for more than several minutes, so how sure are you your brother won’t turn on you?”

Lucifer grinned at the question. “That’s the best part! I’m not sure about anything!”

“Very well,” Billie nodded. “There’s something you’ll have to do for me in return.”

***

It’s been years since Carthage was completely abandoned. After Lucifer sacrificed most of the city to summon and bound the original Horseman of Death, people had made attempts to repopulate the place, but something had always pushed them away in the end.

The streets of the city were empty, and it was so quiet even a human ear could distinguish a sound of a random rusty store sign rocking in the wind from a block away. Everything that was possible to loot was looted, not a single storefront having an intact glass. Pages of old newspapers were blown about the street, all faded to the point it was impossible to read a single line.

It was also dreadful in here. Not because seeing the streets so empty was unsettling, but because the they were not in fact empty. Hundreds and hundreds of spirits moved around the town unseen by human eyes, restless from the petrifying death. Yet, it wasn’t even the most horrific part. The taint of the Mark stayed here for the entire time, poisoning the air, poisoning the ground under their feet.

“Why here?” Lucifer asked looking around.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about this place. A part of him still refused to admit he cared. He couldn’t say losing the corruption made him admire humanity, or even have some semblance of respect for them. No, they were still a dirty and weak bunch of primates, but he didn’t hate them either. Moreover he didn’t want to kill them. And that was where the guilt came from.

Standing in the middle of the city, looking at all the ghosts still trapped in here, he wished he hadn’t done it.

“The taint is still strong here, many souls stuck in the Veil,” Billie commented looking around. “And the leftover magic from that binding spell you cast interfere with my work.”

“And what do you want me to do exactly?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “If you haven't noticed, I’m not exactly myself lately.”

There were thousands upon thousands of ghost shambling around, paying no attention to anything. Be he in full strength, he would’ve easily... Lucifer had no idea what he would’ve done that didn’t involve trying to destroy them. He was pretty sure it wasn’t what Billie had in mind. Desperate, he tried to think what Sam and Dean did in situations like that and remembered about salting and burning bones. Yet, with so many people, it would easily take a few metric tons of salt and several weeks of work, which the archangel didn’t have.

“You need to convince them to move on,” Billie proposed.

“Convince them?” Lucifer asked not even trying to hide the surprise from the absurdity of the request. “Yes, of course,” he nodded turning around to face a random ghost which they passed. “Excuse me ma’am, have you ever considered moving on with your erm... afterlife?”

As it was expected, the ghost ignored him completely, continuing in her way somewhere.

“Do you think it’s funny?” the new reincarnation of Death asked.

“Maybe for you,” Lucifer nodded. “I betcha you’re having so much fun right now watching my struggle.”

Billie sighed, then turned her head towards the sky. The sun had already rose above the horizon by now, but it was early enough the clouds were still tainted pink and orange. “It’s morning still,” she pointed out.

Lucifer stared at her with confusion. By now he understood what she meant, but what she was asking was impossible. Sunrise was the time of the day Lucifer was the strongest. If he had more grace and it was completely recovered from the corruption, he could have driven the taint off this land at least temporarily. It would give Billie enough time to lead the spirits away.

“For someone who tries so hard to project own importance, you’re awfully doubtful,” the new Death told walking to stand right in front of him, looking the archangel in the eyes.

“Doubtful? You would literally be the first being to use a word like that to describe me.”

Billie didn't answer, only tilted her head and smirked. Lucifer stared at her, trying to look more imposing, before he realized that perhaps she had a point. The archangel hated it, hated this feeling of insignificance. If he were still corrupt he would want to kill her, simply because she dared to point out his flaws.

Now he was just looking at her and thinking about her words. “Fine,” he groaned and spread his wings. In the end he was doing it because he needed a favor, so even if she was wrong, he could at least try.

He flew high into the sky, finding himself above the city, his wings soaking in the warmth of the morning sun. His grace was still mostly missing, but he didn't need to use much of it. His goal now was to redirect the light of the star, use it instead of own powers.

The archangel spread his wings wider, the full spawn of them throwing shadow over the city, before allowing his grace to sip through his vessel. He was aware the corruption was getting less and less pronounced after his recent interactions with Sam and Jack. Yet, nothing could’ve prepared him to see it as clean and pure as the day he was created. Shining brightly against the rising sun, it attracted the attention of every lost soul in the area, every spirit stumbling aimlessly around the streets of the city.

There were many ways Lucifer could have reacted with the discovery. He was surprised and a little lost too, but, most of all, he felt triumphant. A loud laughter echoed through the cool air that came both from his grace and his human vessel. “Father,” he said amused, turning his head to the sky. “All this this time, I wondered what could I possibly do to annoy you the most, how can I exert my vengeance. If I had only known this was the answer. After you turned away from me, after you decided I’m not worthy of your love anymore. After you gave up on me. Look at me, Father, look I’m proving you wrong!” he yelled, barely able to sustain his giddiness.

The sun rose higher above him, and Lucifer used his wings to concentrate its light and send it towards the streets below. He didn’t have much hope, but he wanted to try, not even because Billie told him, not because this attempt was the price of her help, but because he really wanted to do something right for a change.

He expected to push the taint off at least a portion of the city, to allow the Death to rip some of the souls, yet the results exceeded his expectations. He saw dark tendrils of corruption rising from the ground, trying to fight the light, resisting. Yet, after a short struggle they started to shrivel, to shrink down until disappearing completely, leaving nothing but healed land behind.

Now it was Billie’s turn to act. A giant black scythe appeared in her hands and a single swipe was all it took for a wave of blue energy to wash over everything in the field of the archangel’s vision.

And suddenly, there was a stream of glowing blue orbs flying towards Lucifer. He tried to move away, out of the trajectory of their ascend, but they just changed the course, continuing to follow him.

“What the hell?” he yelled to Billie who was now also rising towards him.

“You started it, you finish it,” she replied. “Lead the way.”

Lucifer had less than a second to think before the stream of souls was going to reach him. He had no idea what to do with so many, and no time to think. Trying not to show his frustration, he flapped his wings again and continued to fly upwards, higher, until he reached the point he could slice the section of the sky with his wing, opening a portal to Heaven.

“This is unprecedented,” Billie commented as she finally caught up with him. “So many souls brought to Heaven without anyone even passing a judgement?”

“Ah, I gotta do what I do best,” Lucifer shrugged, “let someone else handle it.”

They appeared in a middle of what looked like an office, every wall, desk, chair prestine white, and it was so bright in here, that even Lucifer himself had to wait half a second for his vision to adjust. There were four angels working in the room, all looking impeccable, all dressed in gray business suits as if it was a uniform. The moment Lucifer’s feet touched the floor, their heads turned in the direction of the intruders.

“Honeys!” Lucifer greeted cheerfully. “I’m hooome!”

What happened next could’ve made into a good story, a kind that would end with a phrase ‘you should’ve seen their faces.’ All four celestials present in the room stared at him with their eyes going wide. Immediately, their took into defensive stances, blades appearing in their hands, their wings unfurling.

One of them spoke loudly in his true voice, and sirens sounded all around. Lucifer suspected it was a reaction to his presence, but it came in handy too, because the next moment the ground shook underneath their feet, and seemingly an endless stream of souls entered the portal behind the archangel’s back.

“Guys, I hope you can deal with this,” the archangel grinned and, using the commotion that followed, spread his wings again, teleporting down to the streets that were now completely empty. From there, he could still see the stream reaching up into the sky like a column of pure energy, until the very last soul crossed to the other side, the portal closing behind it.

“That was something,” Billie hummed appearing next to him again.

“The world you’re looking for is ‘fun’,” Lucifer offered trying to catch the breath he needed again after spending so much energy.

She turned to him, her eyes looking him up and down, her expression calculation. “Educational, is what I would call it,” she replied seriously. “You remember earlier, I said I knew the outcomes of your actions?”

“Something like that,” Lucifer nodded trying to sound uninterested.

“I see futures in which you’re happy. Even if you trying to deny it.”

Lucifer laughed at that. “Yeah, sure. Save the world, get the girl — well, a boy in my case.” He took a deep breath then, “I suppose you aren't going to lay out what exactly I need to do. And if not, please don't even start preaching. I heard it all before. Same ol’ song played over and over, until you can distinguish the words no longer.”

“You’re a piece of work,” Billie hummed.

The archangel looked up into the sky again, to the clear area of it where the portal to Heaven had closed only a few moments earlier. He was a piece of work, there was no denying of it, but now it was different. Now he simply doubted he could find a better solution than asking own brother for help, and it wasn’t going to end well, he had a feeling. And so he doubted her words.

“I’m done with my end of the bargain,” he announced. “Your turn now.”

***

The room they chose was dark and reminded Lucifer of the Cage. The sigils inscribed on the walls were suppressing angelic powers and Lucifer felt completely vulnerable inside. He was also trapped in here, unable to pass even the line of the holy fire. This wasn’t going to hold Michael for long, even if the archangel wasn’t at full power, but it would give Billie enough time to send him back into the Cage if things went sour.

Lucifer felt nervous. The last time he’d spoken to his brother was around seven years ago and Michael was trying to kill him then. And before that, they talked about two hundred thousands years ago, when God commanded his brother to kick Lucifer out of Heaven. That conversation didn't go well either.

Neither had talked much during the five years they spent together in the Cage, as it wasn’t a great place for idle conversations. For any verbal exchanges to be honest, not unless screams of pain were considered to be such.

Plus, Lucifer really didn’t expect Michael to lock into himself so fast.

“Are you ready?” Billy asked.

The archangel wasn’t ready, but there was no sense to drag this out any longer. “Yeah,” he nodded.

Billie stepped outside the protective circle into a different room, so she could give the two some privacy. Lucifer wasn’t sure whether or not she was going to know everything about the conversation anyway, but the gesture was appreciated.

The sky outside was torn by a lightning, than another, the dark room flashing white and blue. A stench of sulfur filled the area, and Lucifer realized they were not on Earth anymore, but somewhere in Hell.

Another flash of light, and a figure started to materialize in the very corner. It looked like Michael chose to appear before his brother in his true form, massive and beautiful. He raised his head, and his halo shifted with the movement. Then his gaze stopped on Lucifer.

“Hey, big bro,” Lucifer greeted with a wave of his hand ready for Michael to attack him.

But the older archangel seemed to be looking through him, somewhere on the wall behind his back. Then his shape started to change becoming more human, until he looked exactly like the guy he possessed before he was locked into the Cage.

“Lucifer,” Michael said. It didn’t sound like a greeting, or acknowledgment, or anything, really. Michael just said his name. Then he frowned. “I thought I heard you,” he then curled into himself in the corner again. “No, don’t come closer, you aren't real.”

Lucifer didn’t know what the Cage did to his brother — it was different for everyone inside — but he had a clue. Carefully, he moved towards Michael, taking a seat on the floor next to him. With all of the spellwork in the room, Lucifer had no chance of using his real voice, but he attempted to imitate the melody with limited capabilities of human vocal cords, singing very quiet so only his brother could hear it.

It was crude and nothing like the original song, but it was possible to tell what it was, and Lucifer hoped it was enough. To his relief, after only half a minute, Michael started to answer. The two of them together sounded like the most broken karaoke machine, but the quality was irrelevant.

“Why can I barely see you?” Michael asked. “Your grace...”

“Gone mostly,” Lucifer shrugged.

“How?”

And Lucifer told him. Starting from the moment he’d escaped the Cage with Castiel and ending with how he summoned the Michael from the alternative universe while trying to get Mary to exchange for his son. He didn’t mention everything, but tried to stay as close to the events of the last two years as he could.

“Your son,” Michael observed. “Creating nephilim is forbidden.”

“Really?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Out of everything I just told you, this is what you’re going to give me shit about? Really?!” Then he was not able to hold himself an laughed.

“The humor of the situation escapes me,” Michael tilted his head. “Or is it a hysterical reaction?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Lucifer smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I still would love to punch you for, you know, everything, but... I did miss you big bro.”

Michel nodded again. “I assume you came to ask for help.”

“Yes, and a favor. Or maybe two... three, depending on how you look at it.”

Michael watching him curiously. “And what if I don’t agree? Do you plan on sending me back into the Cage.”

“No offence, but it’s sorta my main bargaining chip, so yeah. Freedom for the assistance. No way you can pass it up, right?”

Michael was watching him closely, a frown appearing on his face, and Lucifer really didn’t like that expression. “There’s something else you could offer for those favors you ask. Your life.”

Sighing, Lucifer rubbed his face. To tell the truth, he expected this to happen, so the request didn’t come as a complete surprise. “Oh please brother, don’t start on this epic final battle again. I’ve been to that shit universe Earth, I’ve seen what it has become after our doubles’ final confrontation. Trust me you don’t want it happening here.”

“I’m not talking about the battle. Come peacefully.”

“Ugh,” the fallen archangel hid his face in his knees, wanting to start pulling his hair in frustration. “Daddy’s gone, with, guess who? The one who was responsible for the conflict between us in the first place. Why... why must you cling to this stupid idea?!”

“I suppose my help is irrelevant to you then,” Michael shrugged.

Lucifer gritted his teeth. The last several days were... different for him, they affected him to the depth he could barely imagine. So here he was, the biggest, selfishest being in the entire creation, honestly thinking about Michael’s proposal of giving his life for the greater good.

If it had happened last year, Lucifer would’ve probably laughed in Michael’s face. Then he would’ve called him a name or two and proposed his brother to bite him instead. Afterwards, he would’ve send him back into the Cage and remembering it all once in a blue moon as a series of unfortunate events. It would’ve saddened him, but he would’ve gotten over it eventually.

Now Lucifer remembered Kelly, how she gave her life. He remembered that man who was trying to run into a burning building to save his son, even if there was nothing he could’ve done. Those tiny acts of heroism seemed completely different after he himself created a new life. At some bizzare level he was even starting to understand his Father, the way He felt about humanity. He didn’t forgive him, of course, but he could see things a little clearer now.

There was a huge part of him that didn’t want to die. It was the part that listened to Billie’s words and liked the idea of a happy ending, with all the pain, loneliness, and betrayal he felt for the majority of his life forgotten. He thought about Sam too. For so long he’d waited for his true vessel, knowing from the start the human belonged to him. Now he realized he didn’t mind belonging to Sam too.

“Alright,” he nodded getting up and starting to pace nervously back and forth. “My life it is.”

“And what are those favors you wish to ask me?” Michael asked getting up from the ground too.

“After you help with my plan of defeating the imposter, you must promise me my son will be ok. You have to promise Heaven will never go after him, and he will never be separated from the Winchesters. The Winchesters will also be spared from your wrath. And Castiel.”

Michael looked at him wide-eyed. “Is this really what you wish from me?” he asked sounding confused.

“What did you expect? Blood of freshly killed virgins and human sacrifices?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Wait, you know what? You’re right. My life is worth more than that. You’ll personally provide protection for Jack and Sam.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and moved towards Lucifer, placing a hand on his temple, ignoring the protests from his younger brother. As their eyes locked, Lucifer began seeing images, memories of the past several days. He really tried to hide some of them, but the older archangel was persistent. One after another he was pulling the recollections of every single event. Lucifer’s embarrassment about being so weak, his worry for his son, his guilt about Kelly, the bliss of Sam’s skin sliding against his.

Finally, Michael removed his hand and Lucifer jumped away. “Privacy, man! Have you heard about a concept of it?” he exhaled, feeling heat rising to the cheeks of his vessel.

“Hmm,” Michael nodded. He didn’t look amused or disgusted, or had any emotion in particular after seeing it all. “In the Cage, you had a choice to protect either me, or Sam. You choose him.”

Lucifer groaned. “You know, you sound like an idiot stating random things. Is that a question? Is that something you expect me to comment about?”

Lucifer didn’t want to think about the Cage. Back then, his corrupted self had been telling him to rejoice seeing his brother and Sam suffer while he’d learned shortcuts and safe corners for avoiding pain. His real nature told him to protect. He could’ve argued he simply cared for his true vessel, but it was a null point, considering Sam’s physical body was saved very early on. Why he’d chosen the hunter’s soul over his own brother, especially considering up to this day Sam continued to think it was Lucifer torturing him, was beyond the archangel’s understanding.

Or, at least, it used to be.

“I lasted there for centuries, I didn’t expect you to go all looney in only few years,” he shrugged. “How did you snap out of it, by the way?”

“I’m unsure,” Michael replied. “I’m still unsure this conversation between us is real.”

“Oh trust me, it’s real.”

Michael nodded again and looked around the room for the first time, as if trying to figure out where they were. His eyes skimmed over the protective sigils, his expression turned thoughtful. “Very well,” he said finally. “I accept your terms. The Winchesters will be left alone. Castiel will be welcomed in Heaven again if he so chooses. Your son and Sam will have my personal protection.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer exhaled. Even if the price of this arrangement was high, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. This entire exchange could’ve turned to be so much worse.

“You _have_ changed, brother,” Michael noted and a tiny, but honest smile touched his lips.

To Lucifer’s complete surprise, Michael proceeded to extend his wings, which looked almost identical to Lucifer’s own, but pure white. The younger archangel hesitated, but in a moment of weakness he reached back, their wings touched, and his head fell onto Michael’s shoulder. It was a mistake, because he knew his brother was going to kill him in the end, but for this moment in time, he pretended the happy ending was a possibility.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam was looking forward to waking up in Lucifer’s embrace again, to be wrapped in his wings. If he felt a ping of disappointment when it didn’t happen, he tried to push it away. In the end, the archangel didn’t need to sleep and he might’ve decided to do something useful, or spend some time with his son.

Instead, the hunter got up from the bed and stretched, noting a tug of pleasant soreness in his muscles, and it brought a smile to his face. His good mood wasn’t even spoiled by the complete mess his room had become after the last night. There wasn’t a lot of damage per se, most of the furniture was just thrown about. The worst case was the TV, which needed to be replaced, and a coffee mug, which Sam didn’t really care about. There was, however, a lot of cleaning to do, and if this thing with Lucifer was going to continue, they would need to figure out what to do with the archangel’s wings.

Sam found his underwear next to the bed, his jeans laid further into the room, next to the wall he was slammed against. His shirt was completely ruined, and he had to pull out a clean one from the drawer, that was thankfully to heavy, and so it stayed completely intact.

There was a mirror on the inside panel of the closet door, and Sam was greeted with his own reflection. He looked surprisingly rested and healthy, if only still a little tired from the sleep, with a crease from the pillowcase running down his stubbled cheek. There was a tiny droplet of blood dried on his lip from the bite. Two very noticeable marks were on each side of his neck, right above the collarbone. The collar of Sam’s shirt was going to cover most of it, but if anyone was going to look closely, they would most definitely see it. Lucifer had left them with a precision, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Sam felt his ears burn as he imagined dealing with side glances the entire day. On the other hand, everyone had already guessed about his relationship with Lucifer, so the best thing he could do was to act like the hickeys belonged there.

Curious about time, the hunter returned to his bed to look for his phone, noting he was also going to need a new clock, as the one he had laid broken on the floor. When he approached the nightstand, his gaze slid onto the spot next to his pillow, and his smile disappeared. Starting to feel incredibly uneasy, he picked up the metal collar, turning it in his hands.

He had no idea how Lucifer was able to take it off. The spell his mother casted was potent and the archangel wasn’t strong enough to break it with his powers. Then something clicked in his mind and he reached to his lip, noting it to be still a little sore. He had been nibbling at the archangel’s neck after he was bit, he most likely left some of his blood on the collar. Willingly.

Sam tried not to feel betrayed, because he still wasn’t sure where Lucifer was. For what Sam knew, getting rid of the collar wasn’t a planned thing, but something that happened by accident. The archangel might’ve still been somewhere in the bunker.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. “Sam,” Dean’s voice came, and his brother sounded unsure. “This is going to sound weird, but please tell me Lucifer is there with you.”

Sam gulped, hearing the question and the worried intonation of Dean’s voice. He walked towards the door, opening it just slightly to peek through. “No, umm... he’s not,” he replied with a sign.

The younger Winchester had no intentions of letting his brother into the room, but before he knew it, Dean was pushing at the door, opening it wider, and Sam didn’t have enough time to stop him. “The keys from the bunker are missing. I have no idea how the bastard found— what the hell happened here?” he asked glancing around.

“Listen, please, don’t ask,” Sam replied seriously. He averted his eyes and tried, at the same time, to insert himself into the doorframe not to allow Dean any further access.

The older Winchester looked suspicious. Sam had no idea what he imagined happened, but there wasn’t a way it was worse than the truth. “Ok,” Dean finally nodded, still frowning in confusion. “So he’s gone then. We need to track him.”

Sam suppressed the urge to start stepping from one foot to the other. He felt incredibly small and guilty. “That is going to be difficult,” he responded handing his brother the collar he was still clenching in his hands.

Dean took it and looked at the ring of metal in disbelief, then his gaze returned to Sam. “Huh?” he hummed sounding really confused. “What happened? He couldn't have forced you, why the hell would you let him go free?” he asked, his tone accusing.

Sam took a deep breath, not really wanting to talk about it. “I didn’t, I swear. I mean I did, but not on purpose,” he confessed rubbing his face.

“What?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “How is that even possible?”

“Dean, please,” Sam warned, trying to finish this conversation and move on. “What’s done is done.”

“Ok...” his brother nodded. His eyes moved to Sam’s neck then, his hand reaching for the collar of his shirt, moving it out of the way, and the younger hunter had a pretty good idea what he just found there. “Fine,” Dean added raising an eyebrow and frowning. Then he turned around and started to walk away.

***

Dean wasn’t pissed. To tell the truth, Sam would’ve preferred for his brother to be angry at him, he could deal with anger. But it was some sort of disappointment on Dean’s face, because he believed in wrongness of Sam’s actions, and there was no way of changing his mind.

It was like a flashback, a déjà vu to the time Sam had been drinking demon blood. Dean made him feel like an oddball again, like he couldn’t make own decisions without screwing everything up.

“You don’t know why he left,” the younger Winchester pointed out. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince everyone else, or himself. Desperately, he was trying to push the thoughts about Lucifer sleeping with him only to get away, but some dark and cold corner of his mind just didn’t want to agree with it completely. “He hadn’t done anything yet.”

He was sitting in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee in his hands. He looked nowhere else but in front of himself, on the key laying on the table — Lucifer had enough consideration to leave it in the keyhole of the front gate which lead out of the bunker. The hunter was trying his best not to pay attention on the knowing looks he received after attempting to defend the archangel.

Sam didn’t want to be the center of attention, not like that. He didn’t mind for his family to know about him and Lucifer, he didn’t want to hide it. But in given circumstances everyone assumed the archangel tricked him, and they were now pitying the youngest Winchester.

At least, Sam though it was pity, because his mother also looked like she had no idea how to react, or whether or not she was suppose to say something to him. Jack seemed not to completely understand what was going on, but he sat there quietly and just listened.

“I don’t even want to start this conversation again,” Dean shook his head. Walking towards a fridge, he opened one of the doors and looked over the half-empty shelves, before closing it again. Afterwards, he turned to a cupboard, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a glass, and Sam couldn’t find it in himself to point out it wasn’t even noon. “Lucifer’s gone,” he said purring himself the drink. “For now, we concentrate on finding the book, and if he’ll pop up in another bloodbath, we’ll deal with him then.”

Dean had time to took a single sip before Castiel raised his head from the laptop. “Or he might have already popped up,” he announced turning the screen towards the rest of them.

The browser was opened on a local news website, a window showing a video that was dated to be from earlier that morning. Castiel pressed play, and Sam saw a news reporter standing in front of a burning building, her voice coming quiet and in low quality through the laptop speakers. According to the ticker text at the bottom if the screen, there was one person still inside, a child trapped in his room.

The camera was pointing on the reporter, and the background building was a little out of focus. A sudden commotion changed it, and the camera turned to catch a man running inside. It was difficult to see who it was, but it changed several moments later. The video showed one of the windows with black smoke pouring out of it, and the same man appeared again.

“That’s dad,” Jack noted smiling.

The archangel climbed out of the window, cradling a child in his arms, and then he jumped. It was three stories high, but he landed on his feet like it was nothing and proceeded to handle the child to the paramedics.

“It’s all over the internet,” Castiel commented. “A lot of videos shot from different angles made with cell phone cameras, people are calling him a superhero. There’s even an entire website about it now.”

“Huh... so, what about that bloodbath you were talking about?” Sam shrugged not even trying to hide the unspoken ‘I told you so’ from his intonation.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dean pushed. “The child must be important in some way, a future prophet, perhaps, or another nephilim?”

“He isn’t a prophet,” Castiel replied. “And if this child was important enough for the old version of Lucifer to be interested in, I would have heard something about it from other angels.”

“The old version?” Dean hummed. “So you also believe he’d changed so much?”

“I don’t know about his motives, but his aura looked different recently, especially after he merged with Sam’s soul,” Castiel nodded.

“I’m not sure what it was before,” Jack joined in, “but I sensed no taint when I saw it last time.”

Dean looked around the kitchen in almost desperation. “Fine, whatever,” he said with a shrug, as if he didn’t care, yet for anyone who knew him, it was possible to see anger in his expression too. “Satan walks among mortals, saving people out of burning houses out kindness of his heart.” He shook his head and turned his attention to the glass in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, before making a disgusted face and poured the rest of Whiskey down the drain. “Come on, we still have work to do.”

And then, because if it rained, it poured, a call came. Everyone looked around to locate the source of it, until their eyes landed on Mary, who pulled a ringing phone out of the pocket of her jacket. She frowned looking at the screen, then her expression became resentful. “It’s Ketch,” she said coldly.

***

“It’s a trap,” Sam sighed getting out of the car looking over a lonely facility in the middle of nowhere.

The place was difficult to recognize for what it used to be. It consisted of one several story tall building made partially of brick and partially of thin metal cladding sheets. All of the exterior was painted white at some point, but now most of the paint peeled off, or was covered in dirt and rust. Above the building was rising a water tower, but it was old, and Sam doubted the water it contained was even remotely drinkable.

There was nothing but an empty field around it, yellow-brown grass was covered with a thin, barely noticable layer of snow. The only road leading here was just a trail of dirt, driving down which made the wheels of the Impala caked in muck. It didn’t fail to bring a dissatisfied frown to Dean’s face.

“You think?” the older Winchester brother hummed trying to get a particular think lump of dirt off the front bumper. It didn’t work so well, and instead of the car, it now stuck to Dean’s boot.

“So, what is the plan?” Mary inquired. She walked straight towards the trunk, opening it and starting to pull out an assortment of weaponry.

After a series of futile attempts of translating the book, Ketch proposed them an exchange. He was going to give them the spell they needed to send Michael into the Cage. In return, they were going to help translating the part of the book which would give him additional lives. It sounded like a fair trade, except they had a suspicion translating a single spell was not what he was after.

“The usual,” Dean replied. “Come, assess the situation on the spot, kill everything, then return home and have a beer.”

As Castiel got out of the car and looked at the building a deep frown appeared on his face.

“What the matter?” Sam asked him concerned. “Is there angel proofing in place?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “But the place is crawling with demons. I will be able to take a good portion of them, but it’s going to be a tough fight. Are you sure it was the right thing to do to leave Jack at home?”

“You said it yourself,” Dean nodded. “You saw Ketch talking to Asmodeus. They need Jack for something.”

“In this case,” Mary said looking over building again. “We could try surrounding it and take out as many demons as we can.”

It was dangerous to split up, especially considering Ketch was expecting them, but it also meant they could move stealthier and cover more ground. “Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Let’s do that.”

***

Insides of the building was in even worse shape. If there was furniture or equipment of any sort at one period of time, it was long gone, either looted or taken apart by the original owners of the property. Instead, garbage was laying everywhere, empty packs of food, beer bottles, a few stolen shopping carts. The walls themselves were covered in graffiti, mostly the bad quality kind.

There was also a horrible smell hanging in the air, think and nausea inducing. It thankfully got a little better further into the building, but then it was replaced with the stench of sulfur.

A narrow corridor was leading further into the facility, splitting into two directions about fifty feet from the entrance. Carefully peeking behind the corner, Sam saw a multitude of doors on each side of it, two demons patrolling the area. Gesturing Mary to stay low, he hid behind the corner, waiting for the demons to pass them.

As soon as a tip of a boot was in the field of Sam’s vision, he reached out and grabbed one of the demons, pulling him away and to the ground, creating an opening for his mother to hurl an angel blade into the second one.

“I hope Dean and Castiel have the same amount of luck on their side,” Mary whispered as they dragged the bodies onto what looked to be an empty closet.

Sam huffed quietly. “They are Dean and Cas,” he reassured. “There’s no other two people I’m more confident about.”

Mary nodded and pulled the angel blade out of the demon, wiping it clean of blood with the corner of the jacket he wore. “It just feels... like it’s never going to stop,” she sighed.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You mean fighting demons?”

“That too. But also, the Ketch thing,” she replied sounding really frustrated and guilty, and Sam realized she might’ve been still blaming herself for what happened half a year ago when British Men of Letter conditioned her to kill other hunters. Sam pondered about reassuring her, telling it wasn’t her fault, but he knew from his own experience, it wasn’t going to help.

“We’ll get him, I promise,” he told her instead, giving his mother a reassuring smile.

“Yeah,” she nodded and got up, moving towards the corner to proceed further into the facility.

The next section of the corridor had several more demons. This time Sam and Mary didn’t manage to work as fast as with the previous two, and one of them almost got away. They caught him before he disappeared behind a large double door that they guarded, but he had time to yell a warning, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet of the building.

Swearing under his breath, Sam got ready to fight a wave of demons, but a moment passed, than another, and no one else appeared. The hunter frowned, carefully moving to peek into the room behind the door, but before he could even reach it, a loud whale came from another side.

Sam and Mary exchanged glances and hurried to open the door. Behind it was a rather large room with tall ceilings and cement floor, which, for some reason, was covered in patches of loose hay. It looked cleaner than the rest of the place, as if it was previously locked from any sort of trespassers. In the very middle of the room stood an altar with a silver mirror in the center and several tree branches surrounding it. Next to it laid opened the Book of the Damned.

Arthur Ketch stood beside the altar, dressed in a black suit and looking impeccable, not a single strand of a hair out of place. He held a silvery dagger, turning it around in his hands, while his eyes were closed, his lips moving in a silent chant.

Ketch was surrounded by at least a dozen of demons, who were the source of the noice Sam heard from the corridor. All of them were kneeling, their faces twisted in what looked to be horrible pain. Yellow-orange glow was coming from the veins on their bodies, as if each and every one of them was stabbed with the demon killing knife, but they were dying in a weird slow motion.

“And I thought, you won’t be joining me today,” Ketch chuckled without turning away from the altar.

Sam pointed his gun directly at him, and on the corner oh his eyes he noticed Dean and Castiel slowly entering the room from the door on the other side. A second passed, another, and all of the demons fell to the ground, their bodied burnt into crisp. Ketch was effectively surrounded now, but he didn’t look even remotely worried.

“Yeah, well,” Dean replied, his own gun tracking Ketch’s every movement. “Thanks for inviting us.”

Ketch ignored Dean completely and turned directly to their mother instead. He smiled at her, yet it looked cold and impersonal. “Hello, Mary. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Give us the book, we’ll be on our way,” she demanded in response.

“Oh, but why would I do that?” Ketch shrugged, and a self-satisfied grin appeared on his face.

“Be reasonable, it’s useless to you,” Sam said, yet by the way some of the letters in the book were dimly glowing, he thought they might’ve been mistaken about it.

The British Men of Letters fugitive laughed at the statement. “Did you actually think you were able to crack the code in the book, but no-one else could?” he asked raising his hands into the air.

“Really, a villain act?” Dean taunted. “Give me a break, you look ridiculous.”

“Ah, Dean,” Ketch sighed, “It doesn't matter what you think, the main thing you came and now I have everything I need to cast my spell.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but Jack isn’t with us. We wouldn’t just risk his safety,” Sam pointed out.

Ketch glanced in his direction, smirking. “You think I need the nephilim? Perhaps, Asmodeus needs him for some reason, but not me. You see, my spell requires one peculiar ingredient. A sacrifice of my enemy.” He smiled at their mother again, his hand extending in an inviting manner. “There’s no-one else I would consider for this honor.”

Castiel was the first to react. A sword was already in his hand, so he charged forward, quickly closing in on the men next to the altar. He almost reached him, when Ketch raised his hand and waved it slightly, sending the angel flying into the nearest wall.

Sam started to pull the trigger, but another quick gesture from Ketch kicked all of the weapons from their hand. Losing it, Sam made a step forward, determined to engage him in a close combat, but he found himself unable to move, as if his legs were stuck to the floor.

Ketch began chanting something beckoning Mary to come closer. Sam couldn’t turn his head anymore, but he heard a grunt behind his back and, a moment later, saw his mother walking towards the altar, her face cringed as if she tried to fight the movement.

Desperate, Sam started to fight against the enchantment, but it was useless. Slowly but surely, Mary was approaching Ketch, closer and closer, until she was almost in the reach of the dagger in his hands.

The air shifted slightly, in a way that was strangely familiar to Sam. The temperature dropped and a pair of dark gray wings outspread behind Ketch’s back. The chanting stopped, interrupted by a deep, throaty gurgle. Surprised, Ketch looked down his own chest, seeing a tip of a bloodied sword sticking out of him.

Immediately, the force that held Sam in place disappeared, allowing him to move. “Lucifer!” he smiled widely looking at the archangel that now also stood beside the altar. He wanted to laugh, relieved he was right. Lucifer hadn’t abandoned him, he came back, he saved his mother.

Ketch’s body started to fall, life leaving his eyes. Before he touched the ground, however, Lucifer caught him by the lapels of his jackets, looking over the man, examingh him. “You actually did it!” he hummed. “You used the magic from the Book of the Damned to strengthen your body. I can’t even fathom how predictable some humans are. Say... do you want to survive this?” His face came too close to Ketch’s one and he grinned mischievously, then whispered something to man’s ear that Sam couldn’t hear.

“Yes,” Ketch gasped.

Lucifer dropped the dying and coughing blood man to the ground, laughing quietly as if to himself. “Come on, Michael, hear me out!” he yelled looking up to the ceiling. “Have this gift as a proof of my goodwill and friendship,” he exclaimed raising his arms, his expression turning almost mad.

“Lucifer?” Sam called confused, as the archangel started to say something in enochian, which the hunter couldn’t understand because he still couldn’t speak the language.

The entire room began shaking, a loud screeching noise piercing the air. It was so loud Sam was forced to cover his ear, but even then it was helping little. Bright light filled the area, coming seemingly from every direction, forcing the hunter to avert his eyes. It lasted for several long seconds, and then everything went quiet again.

When Sam was able to look up, Ketch was no longer dying on the floor. Instead, he stood unharmed beside Lucifer, looking over his arms as if he was seeing them for the first time. Yet, something in his stature was wrong, inhuman and Sam realized he was now looking not at Ketch, but at the archangel Michael, the one that cut the grace out of Lucifer, the one that had almost killed him.

“This body will do nicely,” Michael nodded, then turned to the other archangel. “But it rises a question as to why. Do you think doing me a favor would make me spare your life?”

“Oh no,” Lucifer shrugged. “But me being the only creature in all creation who can help you opening the portal to your dimension might.”

Sam couldn’t believe his ears. Lucifer couldn't have betrayed them like that, it must’ve been a bad dream. Any moment the hunter was going to wake up and find himself back at the bunker, wrapped in the archangel’s soft wings. Yet, no matter how long he waited, the nightmare continued to play.

“The nephilim, your spawn, he has the ability to do it,” Michael pointed out with a challenge.

“Yeah,” Lucifer agreed. He walked towards the altar leaning forward as to look over it. He looked relaxed, as if he had no doubts about own safety. “Go on, try calling him and asking him to open the gate. I’m going to wait here patiently and see how fast you’ll be able to it.”

“Both angels and demons are looking for him as we speak. Sooner or later they’ll find him.”

The fallen archangel plucked a tiny leaf from one of the tree branches on the table. He played with it, his all attention aimed at his own fingers as if nothing else held a particular interest to him. Then he sent it into his mouth, tasting it with curiosity. “Sure, sure,” he nodded. “In a few years they might accidentally stumble on him. By then, he’ll be strong enough to smoosh the entire heavenly host between his fingers like it’s nothing.”

Michael stayed silent for a moment, eyeing Lucifer. “And you can convince him to help me?”

“I can,” Lucifer shrugged. “If I walk alive out of it.”

Sam felt a lump forming in his throat, listening to their interaction. After everything that happened between them, it hurt immensely. “No,” he pleaded. “Why would you do it? Even if you really didn’t believe we could stop Michael, can’t you see he will turn on you after you help him?”

“Oh, right,” Dean retorted from another corner. Sam could barely see him, but he noticed his brother moved a little closer to the gun that was knocked out his hands. “Sounds so familiar, isn’t it, Sammy?”

“Shut up, both of you,” Lucifer said and waved his hand. A different wall of force slammed against the hunter, pinning him to the floor again, leaving him surprised at how much powers the fallen archangel managed to recover. “So, where were we?” he turned his attention back to Michael.

“Hmm, very well then,” the imposter archangel nodded. “Let’s see what you can accomplish.”

Lucifer grinned proudly and closed his eyes. “Jack!” he called sounding distressed now, worried. “We need your help!”

Sam knew Jack had difficulties flying, but if nephilim believed their life was in danger, he could pull it off. The same way he did back in the forest, when they were ambushed by demons. And Lucifer sounded so believable now, that Sam had difficulties accepting he was the same person who couldn’t even hide his reactions on a good hand of cards. Even more dark thoughts started to run through the hunter’s mind, making him ponder if _everything_ from the moment Lucifer called him all those days ago had been a lie.

Another flap of wings and Jack appeared between Sam and Lucifer, looking around the room in confusion. “Father?”

“Jack please, leave!” Castiel groaned from beside Dean. It was difficult for Sam to see him from his position, but it looked that force that slammed the hunter against the ground was also affecting the angel.

Jack didn’t move, only tilted his head. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“You see,” Lucifer sighed addressing no one in particular. “I’ve been reading up on as to why nephilim were forbidden. Turns out you can unleash their powers by sending them through a deep emotional turmoil. So I was thinking, whom could he lose that would affect him the most. Castiel? Perhaps, but I’ve killed him twice already, and I don’t feel like doing it again. Me? That would work, but I’m not a self-sacrificing kind of a guy.” He snapped his fingers, and Sam flinched. Yet, the only thing that happened was a clinck of metal against concrete as the pistol Dean was slowly moving to flew over to the opposite wall. “Sammy!” the fallen archangel announced finally.

“What about me?” the hunter breathed out, watching carefully as Lucifer made several steps in his direction, passing Jack who still stood between the two.

“You were the kindest to my son, you supported him though the time no one else believed in him. He cares about you.”

“Father?” Jack tried again. “I don’t understand.”

“Shh,” Lucifer smiled to him, his hand landing on the nephilim's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Sam gulped as he understood what the archangel had in mind. “You want to kill me? To force Jack to open the portal?” he almost laughed.

Jack frowned at that, but didn’t move, as if not wanting to believe his father could do something like that. Sam didn’t believe it either. He refused to. He recollected every emotion on the archangel’s face he’d seen in the past days. The soft quirks of his lips as he was telling the hunter stories from his past, the affectionate smiles as he was looking at Sam, the warm wonder in his eyes as they laid next to each other after making love.

No, none of it was a play, none of it was fake.

Pushing against the force that held him, Sam started to slowly rise to his feet. On the background, he heard voices of his family telling him to stop, yelling at him and at Jack to fight, to get away, but he ignored them. “No,” he shook his head making a step forward, towards the archangel, his hands rising up in a gesture of trust. “Maybe you told me I didn’t know you well,” he smiled, “but I know you enough. You won't harm me, you can’t.”

Lucifer still stood next to Jack, but he was watching Sam with a strange and unreadable expression on his face. Only his eyes remained soft somehow, caring and apologetic. Looking into them, Sam continued to move, until he reached Lucifer, until he stood face to face with the person he grew to care about so much.

“See, Jack,” he spoke softly with a smile. “It’s ok,” he huffed reaching out for the fallen archangel. His hands landed on Lucifer’s shoulders, and Sam slowly pulled him into an embrace. “It’s going to be ok.”

“Yes, it will be,” Lucifer replied, his warm smile returning, his hand coming to cup Sam’s face. “It all will be ok, I promise,” he added tugging Sam closer, his lips landing on the hunter’s cheek.

That stirred something in Sam, as if he’d seen this before. He knew he’d been in this exact situation, but he couldn’t understand when or where. This caring expression, the warmth in Lucifer’s voice, it was so familiar to him, even if he couldn’t pinpoint the reason.

And the pain that came afterwards, it also added to the sense of familiarity.

From somewhere under his ribs, it spread to his entire torso, his stomach. It became difficult to breath and his mouth filled with warm thick liquid that tasted of iron. Sam heard screams from all around him, but they sounded as if coming from far away, distant, indistinguishable. Ignoring them, he dropped his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, leaning further into the embrace that now felt cold. His fingers ran down Lucifer’s arms, to the the archangel's hands, to the handle of the blade that was in his grip.

He wanted to ask why, but only gurgle came out of his throat.

It was becoming more and more difficult to stand, his legs losing strength, his knees buckling under the weight of his own body. Slowly sliding down the cold metal in his chest, Sam started to fall to the ground. Everything became unfocused, but even then he tried to reach out for Lucifer, wanted to look into his eyes just one more time. The lump in his throat from the feeling of betrayal finally bursted, and tears started to run down his cheeks.

In this haze, he was able see Jack screaming, the powers that burst out of him, slammed into Lucifer, kicking him into the altar, braking the table in half. It didn’t stop there, swirls of thick, potent energy swarmed the room, making the ground shake, cracks ran down the brick walls.

A glowing rift formed in the middle of the room, right next to Michael, growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. Michael gazed on it, smiling, then hurried to move away. “If you planned to open it just to push me in, you’re out of luck.”

“No,” Lucifer chuckled starting to get up from the ground. It didn’t go well, because now Dean finally reached for his gun starting to shoot at the two archangels. While it had no effect on Michael, Lucifer stumbled and dropped to his knees again, blood starting to trickle down the wounds, staining his tan jacket red. “No,” he repeated, his voice breaking in pain, “I just needed to distract you.”

And then another person appeared behind Michael. Sam was barely able to concentrate on anything at this point, but he thought he saw a golden lance piercing the archangel from the other dimension.

Then, everything faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! But please bear with this fic for one more chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

Human memory was a fun thing. The brain’s capacity for storing was vast, almost endless, and nothing else could keep as much information. Yet, memories were also unreliable, misleading and were never able to show the full picture, just the things people wanted to remember, wanted to believe to be true.

It became worse when you were actively trying to forget.

Sam was back in the Cage, remembering the horrible things that happened to him. He watched the memory of Lucifer torturing him. Or at least it was the best attempt of his brain to recollect it.

He remembered pain, unbearable, undenyable. Chains were holding him against the cold walls, metal bars. Flames were consuming his entire body, burning him alive over and over, just before he was being brought back and frozen to death.

And above it all, he saw Lucifer’s face, smiling, glad to see the younger Winchester suffer. The fallen archangel spoke to him, “Shh, it’s gonna be ok,” he was whispering into his ear, his cold fingers rubbing the skin of his face, making Sam disgusted and trying to pull away.

Yet, something wasn’t right, something was not what Sam thought it to be. When he saw it all repeating in his mind this time, the sadistic expression on Lucifer’s face was no longer there, just concern and strange understanding.

“Don’t you dare to break, Sammy, don’t you dare.”

But it was too much. Sam screamed and screamed for what might’ve been years or hours — the time lost its meaning. And then it all started to slip away, his memories, his mind, everything that made Sam who he was.

He saw Lucifer reaching out again, cupping his face. “This is the curse of the Cage,” he said sadly. “Everything inside it must suffer. So let me be the one doing it.”

And it all changed. There was same pain still, there were mind games, and jokes, and horrible singing, and binge watching all of the worst TV shows humanity had to offer. But somehow, it kept Sam sane, kept him whole.

Lucifer saved him the only way he knew how.

Sam screamed, his lungs feeling like they were on fire. The white light surrounded him, and it was too bright too look at. It took away all of the pain, and then it disappeared, leaving him to lay on the floor gasping for air. He was lost, disoriented, unable to remember where he was, knowing only it was not longer the Cage.

Above him, he saw the face of his brother who smiled at him. “Sammy, you’re back,” he said relieved.

The recent events started to catch up with Sam, and he reached down to his stomach to find the mortal wound — he knew it was mortal, he felt himself die — only to find torn fabric of his shirt over absolutely smooth and healthy patch of skin.

Confused, the younger hunter rose on his elbows and looked around. He saw Jack lying unconscious, his head resting on Castiel’s knees. Sam could see the boy’s chest rising and falling which meant he was alright. Next to them sat Mary, looking towards the center of the room with concern, an angel blade held firmly in her hand.

Sam followed her gaze and saw the orange crack in reality starting to close. Next to it stood his half-brother Adam. One of his hands was raised towards the fissure as if examining it, while in his other hand he held weakened Lucifer. His expression was pensive, his posture stiff, but noble at the same time, and Sam realized it wasn't Adam, but the archangel Michael, the real one.

Sam’s mind started to race, his hand trying to reach for anything resembling a weapon, but there was nothing around him.

“I did not come here to fight you,” Michael said tilting his head, then nodded at his brother. “I came for him. It’s time for you to make good on your end of the deal,” he added addressing Lucifer.

“Your deal?” Sam surprised.

“Yes, you were to stay unharmed for exchange of his—”

“Shut up, you idiot,” Lucifer groaned, slapping Michael’s hand and freeing himself from his grip. “That the whole point of heroic sacrifice, no-one should find out about it,” he said sounding really uncomfortable. “But whatever. Not sure if the bizzaro Michael is dead, but he’s on the other side now, so guess you can have me,” he added standing up to his feet, spreading his hands and closing his eyes, as if getting ready for his brother to strike.

Michael took a step backward, giving him an amused smile. “You think I came to kill you?”

“Well, that was what we agreed on?”

“What?” Sam’s surprised. Suddenly everything that happened started to come together like pieces of a puzzle. “No, don’t!” he yelled, trying to get up from the floor and run towards the two archangels. “Don’t do it, please!”

“What the hell you talking about?” Dean barked confused, trying to hold him in place.

Sam felt weak, his every muscle ached, but determination helped him to brush the discomfort aside. He managed to push Dean’s hand off of him and moved forward towards Lucifer, inserting himself in between him and Michael.

“Why do you protect him?” the older archangel asked.

“Are you even serious?” Lucifer hissed from behind Sam’s back and the hunter couldn’t understand if the question was for him or for Michael.

“Because!” Sam groaned. “Because he is no longer corrupt by the Mark, because he has no longer any interest in destroying the world, because he deserves a second chance. And most of all, because you’re his _brother_!”

“You love him,” Michael nodded.

It wasn’t even a question and Sam felt his face burn. He more sensed that saw his mother’s questioning look, felt Castiel turning to look at him too, and even Jack was starting to come around, his head moving from one side to another to assess the surroundings.

And then it suddenly was made even worse, because Michael’s gaze moved from Sam to Lucifer. “And you love him too,” he noted. “Hmm.”

“What?” Sam almost laughed hysterically, because it was Lucifer they were talking about. Yeah, maybe the archangel had some sort of a fixation on him. Maybe it was even more than physical gratification, and maybe, in some strange way, Lucifer cared about him. But love? He wouldn’t love Sam. He was too big, too old and unreachable for it to be true.

He heard Dean laugh on the background and say something about the ridiculousness of Michael’s words. He ignored it in favor of turning his head and looking at Lucifer expecting to see revulsion on his face. But it wasn't there. Instead, the younger archangel looked smaller than his usual self, and he refused to meet Sam’s eyes.

“For someone who claims to adore humanity, you know shit about them and their social norms, brother,” Lucifer huffed, and Sam could’ve sworn there was embarrassment in his voice.

“You weren’t going to tell him,” Michael continued.

“Not if I’m going to die, you moron!”

Sam was able to hear their conversation, but wasn't really capable on focusing on it. Shocked, he was staring at Lucifer with his eyes wide open.

“Alright,” came Mary’s voice, Sam’s mother rising from the ground with her hands in the air. “Is there going to be anymore fighting? Because if not, I think this conversation should really be over. I mean, I care about my son’s life, but this is a little too personal for a discussion.”

Michael smiled at that. “My apologies,” he nodded to Mary. He then turned to Sam, addressing him directly. “I promise you not to harm my brother, but I need to take him back to Heaven to decide what to do with him.”

Before Sam could even blink, the two archangels were gone, leaving the youngest Winchester to stand in the middle of a room in the abandoned facility, lost and confused, with several pairs of eyes looking for explanation he surely couldn’t give.

***

After almost a month, Sam’s life was slowly returning to its usual ebb and flow.

The first several weeks were the hardest, because he had no idea what was going on and was worried sick. Even Castiel, who was now free to return to Heaven, couldn’t find any information about Lucifer’s fate.

Most of the time Sam was just existing in a sort of limbo, where he was forcing himself to function, to eat and sleep in between praying. He prayed to Michael, asking the archangel to allow him to see Lucifer again. He prayed to Lucifer telling how much he missed him. He prayed to God too, asking to intervene, to make sure nothing bad would happen to his son that he kept on failing.

What was making it difficult, was Sam’s own family. Dean was circling around him with an expression full of worry, but Sam suspected it was not because he understood how much the younger hunter wanted Lucifer back. Sometimes Sam thought Dean still believed his brother was under some spell. Every day he was trying to come up with more and more reasons to solidify this belief, but nothing held after he was done presenting it to Sam.

“I told you he would stab you,” he pointed out.

“You were there with me, Dean. He saved all of us,” Sam shook his head.

“He tortured you. How can you ever forgive that?”

“The Cage did,” Sam corrected, because now he remembered the real events. “He was protecting me there too.”

“And why would he do that?” Dean started in a sarcastic manner, but shook his head when Sam looked him straight in the eyes. “Nevermind. I don’t think I can ever wrap my head around this.”

Mary was giving him space, but she was also trying to be supportive. It was two contradicting things, so, most of the time, she was dropping random words of encouragement and trying to disappear afterwards, finding something suddenly important that she needed to do.

“Mom, have you seen my—” Sam asked her entering the library, unable to find where he left his phone. He stopped himself seeing her expression.

Mary sat with her back to him, seemingly reading a book. The moment her son appeared in the field of her vision, she hurried to wipe tears from her eyes, trying to pretend nothing happened. “Have I seen what?”

“Were you crying?” Sam frowned. Approaching her, he sat down on the chair next to his mother. “What happened?”

“Nothing, really,” she shook her head. She remained silent for a second then took a deep breath. “Actually, I still have no idea what to do, how to react. My son... both my sons, actually,” she stumbled looking around unsure. “I don’t know how to put it without sounding unsupportive. Things were a little different back when I was... well was in my time. I’m unsure what is stranger to me, the idea that it’s the Devil, or the fact it’s a man.”

Sam blinked looking at her. He was right to think his mother was a little lost over the entire ordeal, but he’d never actually pondered as to why.

“I know,” he sighed. “I actually still question myself about it. I mean, he used to be evil, and his vessel is a, well, _he_. It didn’t help that everyone found out about it like they did.”

Mary looked him over. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she shook her head.

“What are you talking about?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “I want you to talk to me. You’re my mom!”

Sam though Mary was going to close up again, but to his surprise, she reached out and hugged him. Most of the hugs they initiated were a little awkward, Mary being a little too stiff as if unsure what to do. This time it was different somehow. She embraced her younger son tightly, her hand rubbing gentle circles over his back.

“Hey, mom?” Sam smiled embracing her back. It was a little awkward with both of them sitting, but it was so good he was starting to tear up too. “I was thinking about learning how to cook lasagna. Care to download a recipe online and make an attempt at it together with me?”

Cooking with his mother distracted Sam and, lately, any kind of distraction was appreciated. They were also able to openly talk to each other. Sam told her about his childhood and how he left hunting for college, about Jess, about the mistakes he’d made along the way.

The lasagna didn’t work out all that great, but that evening they all sat down around the dining room table, even Castiel who didn’t need to eat, like a real family. And it was a kind of time Sam knew he was going to cherish.

Jack, somehow, was the easiest to be around. On several occasions, he attempted to ask about the nature of Sam’s relationship with his father, but he’d never given Sam one of those pitying looks, neither his intonation sounded judgmental. He even seemed to understand Lucifer’s actions back during their confrontation with the fake Michael.

“He is different from what that book said,” Jack pointed out once. “I always thought he would mean nothing to me...” he frowned as if trying to figure out what to say, “but I miss him.”

“I know,” Sam signed. “I miss him too.”

Castiel, on the other hand was most definitely avoiding him. The first several days Sam thought it was a simple coincidence, but soon he distinguished a pattern. Sam had no idea what’s gotten into the angel, but he didn’t want to ask about it either.

“I apologize if my behaviour has been off recently,” he finally approached the younger WInchester after several more days. “But I believe I was... envious? I was contemplating the emotion.”

“Envious?” Sam raised an eyebrow. He wanted to ask what the angel meant, but he thought he had a general idea.

Castiel nodded. “If Lucifer returns, what are you going to do?”

He thought about the question. “It really depends,” he replied. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and imagine Lucifer would be willing to start a real committed relationship with him.

“I assume it depends on what the both of you would want,” Castiel nodded. “What if he wants to be with you? What if you agree? You and Dean had always had each other. You made deals with demons to save each other, broke orders of the universe and almost destroyed the world. What if you find another person you would want to do the same for? Can it become too much?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, the line of questioning catching up with him. “It’s not really about me and him?”

Castiel shook his head.

Sam rubbed his tired face pondering. “You know what?” he shrugged. “You’re wrong. You speak about _‘what if’_. What if tomorrow I slip in the shower and break my neck? Should I not take showers anymore?”

“So you think it’s for the best to take the chance?”

“Our whole life is just taking chances,” Sam smiled softly.

He understood it applied to him more than he thought. He’d spent too much time pondering whether or not Lucifer wanted a relationship, assumed things even if the archangel specifically warned him not to. And even if Lucifer wasn’t interested, Sam could put in the effort in pursuing him. Any relationship was a lot of work, and Lucifer was worth every bit of effort, because Sam loved him.

It wasn’t a sort of revelation that took him by surprise. It felt like it was there from the very beginning, from the moment he’d seen the archangel’s light for the first time. It didn’t freak him out either. He accepted it, and he felt good about it.

The nature of his prayers changed after the realization. He continued to do it every night, but now, instead of asking him to return, Sam simply talked to the archangel as if he was there, with him. He kept Lucifer updated on the events of the day even if nothing interesting was happening. Every time, before falling asleep, he was also telling Lucifer how he felt about him.

At one point they found they had a mystery to solve right in front of their noses, in the bunker. Small items — mostly shoes and socks, started to disappear. Then the hunters kept finding them in the most unusual places, and sometimes they were chewed on, as if by a dog. It was strange, considering they most definitely had no dogs, or any other animals that could do it.

The mystery was solved later, when one morning Sam was awoken by his brother’s yelling. Well, it wasn’t exactly yelling, but more like arguing really loud and right in front of Sam’s door. Curious and a little worried about the recipient of Dean’s anger, Sam climbed out of bed and opened the door.

“I don’t care, it’s a hellhound!” Dean groaned pointing either at Jack who stood about ten feet away, holding his hands as if there was something in them, or Castiel who stood in between the two.

“Dean, please, I know it’s difficult to believe, but it is trainable and might even be useful,” Castiel reasoned.

“His name is Dip,” Jack provided lifting something invisible as if to show it to everyone. The thing made a quiet yelp as if in agreement, and Sam realized it was really a tiny hellhound in the nephilim’s hands. A puppy. “He won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“No,” Dean insisted. “There’s no way we’re keeping it!”

Castiel took a deep breath, looking a little lost and panicked. He glance at Sam, then back at Jack, before his eyes settled on Dean, and his expression turned determined. Then he took a step forward, reaching for the hunter’s shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss.

It didn’t last long, and it wasn’t something really indecent. It didn’t even land on Dean’s lips, just on the corner of them, but when Castiel moved away, Dean’s anger was gone completely. As he looked around and noticed Sam staring at him, his expression turned embarrassed, yet there was no surprise on his face, as if the angel kissing him wasn’t something new.

“I...” Castiel breathed out, his own eyes wide. “I’m asking you a little nicer.”

Dean opened his mouth before closing it again. “This conversation isn’t over,” he said pointing at the hellhound puppy, before spinning on his heel and disappearing behind the corner, so fast Sam though he learned how to teleport. Castiel spared one final glance at the two other people present during this exchange and followed Dean.

It was way too early in the morning, so Sam decided to ponder about what he just saw at a later date. Maybe never. Instead, he walked towards Jack looking at the empty spot between his palms.

“May I?” he asked, not even trying to hide his curiosity. He’d never had any good experience with hellhounds, but he’d never met one as a puppy either. To tell the truth, he’d never even thought about hellhounds starting as puppies, his brain simply couldn’t connect a killer dog from Hell with something small and cuddly.

“Of course,” Jack replied making a step closer and allowing Sam to touch the dog.

The first thing Sam felt were puffs of breath from a tiny muzzle. Then it actually licked his finger, making the younger Winchester grin as he ran his hand over soft, invisible fur. “So you’re the one who ate my slippers,” he chuckled and hear a guilty wine as a reply.

“Dad said they are almost intelligent,” Jack pointed out. “Smart enough to understand human speech.”

“I guess we’ll need to buy some real chew toys,” Sam pondered out loud.

It took another week for Dean to accept Dip. Even then he declared a whole lot of spaces off limit for the pup. He also obtained a collar with a round bell, so they at least could hear him moving around.

A few mornings later, Dean placed a laptop in front of Sam as the younger hunter sat in the library trying to memorize more Enochian words from the book Lucifer gifted him.

“Mom found us a hunt,” Dean grinned. “Let’s go save some people.”

In the span of the several next weeks they buried themselves in work. Sometimes their entire family went hunting, sometimes it were only Sam and Dean.

In a strange way, it sort of balanced Sam’s life. It gave him purpose and occupied his mind. At the same time it provided him with an array of physical activities like running, and swinging crowbars, and digging graves in the middle of cold nights.

The hunting also lead to a very unexpected discovery. It was a particular nasty pack of werewolves, and Sam and Dean were alone after it. While in the end they managed to deal with the pack, it was not before they took a lot of beating.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean commented gulping down whiskey straight from the bottle. “I can’t believe you don’t have a single damn scratch after everything. Talk about luck!”

Sam hummed thoughtfully as he was finishing stitching a cut on his brother’s arm in the dull light of a random motel bathroom. It wasn’t the only injury Dean sustained. His body was covered in bruises and cuts. While they weren’t too serious, Dean was going to be sore until they return to the bunker and Castiel could heal him.

Sam, on the other hand, came out completely untouched. It was surprising, considering he’d flew from a window on the second floor and fell into the bushes.

At first it was brushed of as luck, but when, on a completely different hunt, Sam was stabbed in the leg only to find his skin completely intact later, he realized luck had nothing to do with it.

“This is very unusual,” Castiel frowned examining him. “It appears Sam was healed by angelic grace.”

It was rather late when they returned to the bunker, but none were ready to go to bed before they figured out what was happening to the younger Winchester. Now they sat around the library table waiting patiently until Castiel examined him, and Sam was trying not to think how it was becoming such a usual occurrence. 

“Was it...” he licked his lips trying to will his heart rate too keep from picking up, “Lucifer’s?”

To hunter’s disappointment, Castiel shook his head. “No, it’s Michael’s grace.”

“You want to say the archangel Michael came down from Heaven to personally heal him?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “And none of us noticed it?”

Castiel frowned and turned to look as Sam again. “I don’t think so. It looks like Michael extended his own grace to protect Sam. I don’t know how it works, I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“I think I have traces of someone else's grace around me as well,” Jack frowned. “If didn’t seem harmful, so I didn’t think much about it.”

“Something like that never comes free,” Mary pointed out.

On that Castiel sighed. “I believe the price for this protection has already been paid.”

***

Lucifer sacrificed his own freedom to provide Sam with whatever it was protecting him, that much was obvious to the hunter. Pacing back and forward in his own room he pondered what he could do about it. The idea forming in his head was stupid and dangerous, and he knew it was going to piss Dean off and endanger his entire family.

Rubbing his face, the hunter looked at his new clock, noting it to be two in the morning. Grabbing his already prepared bag, Sam carefully opened the door leading out of his room and looked around the dimly lit corridor, making sure no one could see him leaving.

It was so quiet in the bunker, it was possible to hear the computers buzzing in the server room, refrigerators humming in the kitchen. Sam moved carefully too afraid to disturb it, making his way down to the garage.

It was very dark in there, but the moment he walked in, the lights came to life, almost blinding him with the sudden change. After allowing his eyes to adjust for a second Sam stepped towards the Impala, and stopped on his tracks seeing Dean standing next to the car, leaning on its surface.

“Dean!” Sam exhaled surprised, trying to come up with a believable lie on a spot.

“Going somewhere?” the older Winchester asked raising his eyebrow.

“I just wanted a breath of fresh air,” Sam replied trying to sound casual.

“And those ingredients for an archangel summoning spell in your bag is just nothing, right?” Dean pointed out with a shrug.

Sam closed his eyes, realizing it was pointless to continue his deception, Dean wasn’t going to buy it. “I know what you think, Dean,” he sighed. “But I’m going to do it no matter what. And I know it sounds crazy, I know you might still think I’m under some spell, but I want Lucifer back.”

Dean was watching him closely for a moment. His gaze then slid past him and he nodded. “Did you bring bayleaf? I don’t think he packed any,” he told to someone and when Sam turned to look at who it was, he saw his mother walking into the garage holding a small pouch in her hands.

“Yes, all ready,” she replied lifting the pouch as if for a display.

“I found a good spot where we can perform the ritual,” came Castiel’s voice and then the angel himself walked from behind the Impala, holding a cellphone in his hand. “It’s twenty three miles away, so the bunker’s protection won’t interfere with it.”

Finally, Sam saw Jack sitting in the backseat of the car, smiling. The nephilim spotted him too and waved his hand in greeting.

“What’s going on?” Sam surprised.

Dean gave him a leveled look. “Helping you get your angel back,” he replied turning to open the driver’s door of the car. “Don’t get me wrong, I still want to punch the bastard in the face for everything he’s done, but I’m tired of seeing you moping around day after day. And we aren’t letting you do something as crazy as summoning an archangel alone.”

Sam looked over his family gathered in the garage and smiled. “Thanks you guys.”

***

The place Castiel found on the GPS map was an old, abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere. There was a store building in the middle of it, which was now missing every window and looked more like a giant metal box. Inside it was dark and empty, but it was perfect for what they were going to do.

All of the shelves here were overturned, and the floor was covered in some debris, but after a quick cleaning, they had enough space to draw out the summoning circle. Surrounding it with holy oil was useless, because it held almost no effect on the two older archangels, and annoying Michael was not something they wanted to do.

After everything was set and done, Castiel recited the incantation. Sam was expecting the usual shaking of the ground, light and thunderclaps that followed the archangel’s appearance, but nothing of that nature happened. Instead a gentle flap of wings indicated his presence.

“I guess I should’ve expected something like this,” Michael’s voice came from somewhere to the side of Sam.

Glancing in the direction of it, the hunter saw him sitting on what used to be a cashier counter, watching their group with curiosity. He still occupied the body of their half-brother Adam, looking exactly as all those years ago, when they saw him at the Stull Cemetery.

“Michael,” Sam greeted with a nod. “Thank you for coming.”

The archangel glanced over him and then at the summoning circle. “If I’m not mistaken, the last time you prayed to me, you made... some rather interesting promises about making me regret my decision of imprisoning my brother in Heaven.”

That was not the words Sam used, and he was both embarrassed and grateful the archangel decided to rephrase it in front of his mother and Jack. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean it.”

“I know,” Michael nodded and Sam could’ve sworn he saw the archangel’s lips quirking slightly. “Still,” he then turned to Dean, nodding at the Molotov cocktail bottle filled with holy oil and a lighter in his hands. “I would prefer if you put that down. I oathed not to bring harm to any of you, so there is no need for it.”

“What, bad memories?” Dean chuckled, then immediately went quiet under the archangel’s glare. “Ok, whatever,” he shook his head and slowly crouched down placing the items onto the ground.

“That is why we called you, actually,” Sam started. “The protection on me. I believe it was what Lucifer exchanged his freedom for. I want to reverse that deal.”

“To free my brother?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “What if he wouldn’t want to return to you?”

“You don’t know that,” Sam shook his head. Even if Lucifer didn’t want to see him, there was no way he wouldn’t want to see Jack.

Michael turned thoughtful for a moment. “I believe he... feels guilty and is under the impression you are unable to forgive his actions.”

“But he should know better!” Sam protested. “I’ve been praying to him.”

“Ah,” Michael nodded. “His ability to receive prayers has also been... temporarily cut off.”

Sam felt like an idiot hearing it. He said a lot of things to the archangel and turned out Lucifer heard none of it. “It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head.” I still want to exchange this protection of yours to free him.”

“I want it too,” Jack joined it.

“Alright,” Michael agreed.

That left Sam a little speechless. He fully expected needing to argue with Michael, or agree to do a favor of some sort. He was even ready to beg if it came down to in.  “Just like that?”

This time Michael actually rolled his eyes, which was also an unexpected gesture. “I gave my word not to harm you, and I’m ready to stand by it. Extending my personal defences to a mortal and...” he looked Jack up and down with something akin to disapproval, “...him, it limits me. I don’t like it.” He sighed then, and just for a second it made him look tired, almost human. “His recently acquired taste in music I have to deal with on a daily basis is also something I would gladly live without,” he confessed.

Sam blinked a few times pondering what Lucifer was even listening to, before he heard Michael chuckle and understood the archangel was making a joke. “Umm,” he decided to try even more of his luck. “I know I already asked a lot, but what about Adam?” he inquired.

Michael looked down at himself. “His soul had been in Heaven since before I was locked in the Cage.”

“And I assume you wouldn’t agree to bring him back?”

The archangel shook his head. “He shouldn’t have been brought back the first time around. I know you’re not inclined to believe me, but it wasn’t my idea.”

“Oh yeah, blame it on the dead guy,” Dean nodded.

“Dean, stop it,” Sam hissed a warning, then turned to Michael again. “Thank you,” he told him.

Michael jumped off the counter and moved directly towards Sam, looking the hunter straight in his eyes. _“Against all odds, you got me my brother back,”_ he heard the archangel’s voice, yet he didn’t see his lips moving. “ _I’m the one who should be thanking you._ ”

And just like that he was gone, leaving them to stand in a half circle around an empty spot.

“Dick,” Dean groaned.

***

The cold weather was starting to give way to warmer, sunnier days as the winter was slowly coming to an end. The nights were still cool, but they were pleasant too, the air fresh and clear.

Sam sat on the hood of the Impala with his brother drinking beer and watching stars from a parking lot of another motel. It was close to the midnight, and they really needed to call it a day, because Dean wanted to return to the bunker as soon as he could tomorrow. He’d never explained his reasons, but Sam was able to guess that after several days of not seeing Castiel, his brother was going a little mad. It was rather heartwarming too.

“You coming?” Dean asking climbing down the hood, a bottle of beer now empty in his hand.

“Nah, I just want to stay here for a while longer if it’s ok,” Sam shook his head.

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Suite yourself, but I’ll kick you awake at like five, so...”

Sam waved his hand in a gesture that was both agreement and an attempt to send his brother to sleep. He saw Dean shrug and turn around, walking towards their room and disappearing behind the door.

Left completely alone, Sam returned his gaze to the sky. It was quiet here. Occasionally, a lonely car passed by him, distant voices were coming from a bar on the other side of the road, but it was far enough, he could filter out the sounds and enjoy the night.

A flap of wings made Sam’s heart jump in his chest. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this?” came a familiar voice.

Sam turned around seeing Lucifer standing next to the Impala, a grin on his face.

Not thinking about it twice, the hunter slid off the hood and approached the archangel, embracing him, his heart overflowing with joy, and relief, and so many other emotions he didn’t have names for half of them.

Lucifer went still for a moment, probably not expecting it. Then he wrapped his arms around Sam too, pulling him as close to himself as was possible. “I thought you’d be a little more apprehensive of my presence,” he chuckled against Sam’s ear. “More mad at me.”

“I am mad at you!” Sam replied, pulling away to look at the archangel. They still stood in each-other’s intimate space, almost touching. “After all the stunts you’ve pulled! I was worried, you know.”

“And what about everything else?”

Sam exhaled loudly. “Like leaving me and Jack to go save the world and die heroically? Yeah, I’m kinda upset at that too.” Then he thought about it and started to laugh.

“What's so funny?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just,” Sam shook his head, “something me or my brother would do.”

The archangel glared at him, but when he spoke he sounded lighthearted. “Wow, seeing each other for the first time in months and you start with insults. I’m mad at you too,” he added more seriously. “Giving up on Michael’s protection like that. You have no idea how rare and potent it was.”

“I’d rather see you again,” Sam replied honestly. He could’ve sworn the archangel’s eyes went a little wider at his words, but it was too dark to tell for sure. Still, it left Lucifer with a rather endearing expression, and the hunter found himself wanting to kiss him, but he didn’t know if it was appropriate. “How have you been?” he inquired instead.

Lucifer made a face that was part disgust and part annoyance. “Community service,” he said. “They sorta received a few dozen thousand souls recently that needed to be sorted through.”

“And now you’re done?”

Lucifer grinned mischievously. “Nah, I ran off.”

“Of course you did,” Sam chuckled and turned to the Impala again. Climbing onto the hood, he beckoned Lucifer to join him. “And what are you, on the run now?”

“Call it sick days. Gonna need to return in a few to finish,” the archangel explained following him.

They sat silent for quite a while, and it was surprisingly pleasant, no words needed to enjoy each other’s company. Determined to move thing along, Sam shifted a little closer, until their shoulders touched, and he felt Lucifer leaning in slightly too.

“I prayed to you, but I heard you didn’t receive it,” he said licking his lips and looking down at the spot on the black metal surface between them, feeling a little nervous.

“Michael turned the radio off for me, yes. Punishment and all. If you hadn’t figured it by now, he’s the biggest ass in the whole of Heaven,” he confirmed, before the wide grin returned to his face, “I heard you were bugging him every night tho, threatened him even. I’m so proud, kiddo.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam huffed. “There were a lot of... other things that I’ve said... that I want to tell you now too.”

“Wait a second, you didn’t confess your feelings to me or something, did you?” Lucifer asked sounding really amused.

“Actually,” Sam smirked and looked at Lucifer again. He was working up to it, and the archangel managed to make the confession easier. “I did. I mean, your brother pointed it out, but I hadn’t realized it for myself at the time.” He paused then, taking a deep breath, “Lucifer, I love you.”

It was obvious the archangel was trying to make him uncomfortable with the question, and he got a taste of own medicine. The grin disappeared from his face, and it was his turn to look away. “Oh,” he nodded frowning in surprise, “Wow. That’s... that’s good. Cause, well, I love you too and... and pinning for a human without reciprocation would’ve been a serious blow to my self-esteem.”

Something big and warm exploded in the pit of Sam’s stomach and he laughed, openly and loudly.

“Now you look like an idiot,” Lucifer exhaled. “Guess I need to shut you up before you wake everyone up,” he said and grabbed Sam by the shoulder, pulling him for a kiss.

Sam went willingly, using one hand to lean over the hood, while his other one came to cup Lucifer’s face. It was long and really, really good even if the archangel was still not completely proficient. They kissed for what seemed like hours, until Sam thought his lips were going to burn the next morning. Until the warmth of happiness from their reunion started to turn into a heat of desire.

“Are you staying here with your brother?” Lucifer asked pulling away slightly, glancing over the row of doors on the side of the parking lot.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Want to get a different room?”

“Nah,” Lucifer replied before placing one more short kiss on Sam’s lips. “I was more thinking about ditching your brother completely. Going on a vacation for a few days. Just you and me.”

Sam grinned. “I like the idea. Where would we go?”

“Just... pick a place?”

**Epilogue**

Sam finished covering the broken window with the plastic sheet, hammering the last nail into the frame. He stepped away from it and admired his work. It wasn’t perfect, but it was going to protect from the wind and, partially, from the still chilly air of early spring.

“You’re my handyman,” Lucifer huffed from behind his back. The archangel sat on the bed, with his legs crossed, watching Sam with an expression of impatience.

“I’m sorry, perhaps it was a horrible idea,” Sam sighed dropping the hammer onto a shelf and moving to sit beside the archangel, half embracing him, his head coming to rest on Lucifer’s shoulder. “Want to go somewhere else?” he asked looking around the messy room of the cabin where they’d been stuck in several months ago.

It wasn’t as cold as it was back then, and all the snow outside melted, but having a gaping hole in a wall would’ve still made their night uncomfortable. Besides the broken glass, everything inside the cabin was exactly as they left it. The couch from the living room stood parallel to the bed, one of the extra blankets was thrown over it. The candles they used to illuminate the room were on the nightstand and were still useable. It was a good thing, because the electricity was still out.

At least the bed was clean, with Lucifer having to use a little of his powers to ensure they wouldn’t find any more glass shards with their own skin.

“Nah, it’s fine,” the archangel chuckled turning his head and kissing Sam’s forehead. “Nostalgic even, don't ya think?”

Sam exhaled starting to push the archangel onto the sheets, his hands running down his sides. “Alright, I can see the charm,” he whispered smiling. “This place can be cozy with some tidying up.”

“Very secluded,” Lucifer hummed starting to place kisses over Sam’s neck. “Such an advantage.” He proceeded with turning them both to lay on their sides, facing each-other. “But you should get some sleep first.”

Sam had been rather tired after finishing the hunt and, on top of that, he had to waste time fixing the window broken by the demons. He was ready to pass out even if he had completely different plans at the start. “I want to wake up with you” he confessed, pulling Lucifer closer burying his nose in the blond hair.

“You will,” the archangel chuckled tugging the blanket over both of them. “It’s something I can promise you now.”

  
  
**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I kinda feel sad for ending this. Maybe one day I'll write a one shot or two in continuation. I have plenty of ideas, but will see... Hope you all enjoyed it! :')


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